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^97/ ^^ 

THE NEW CODE. 1871. 




adapted' W . ^-.: 

. . . , 


• ^ . . . • . . . ^ • • . 

REV. E. T. STEVENS, B.A, Oxok^ A.K.C. Loni>. 

and th« 



MtfOMB dr «fl«ir (9J{iiz>ir iBagojf gooKB' <c«» 

Boys* First Standard. 

LOND(iN : 

- * 



Thb Editobs Tentnze to call the attention of Teachers and 
Hanagen of Schools to their 


embracing Bbadiko, Wiumra, and Abithmbtxc, as pre- 
paratory .to the First Standard nndfiv the Nef^r. Code, 187U 

They also beg to refer to their series of 


especially .adapted to the ^ New Code, 1871»..and embracing 
BfiA.DiNQ, Spfiixmo, Wbi^o, and AiuTHMEiic. 

These books will be found very suitable for use alternately 
with the Useful Knowlbdg/b Series, as required by the 
Committee of Council on Educ^Bbtion. ' 

They areiilso specially adapted as Home Lesson Books 
in lill the essential subjtets of the Code Examinations. 

0^}kThe Editors demire to call the attention of Teachers 
to the notices on pages Tiii and zii of this Yolume. 



n ')\ 


. \ 



: I 







The Editors of these Series have been led to 
undertake their prodiiotioii by the fiact that, 
for our Elementary Schools, there is an ac- 
knowledged want of books combining facility 
in teaching to read with the inculcation of 
such useful knowledge as is calculated to pre- 
pare the .young to enter upon the practical 
duties of life with intelligent and well-fur- 
nished mmds. , ' 

In attempting to produce such a work, the 
chief difficulty is that of supplying useful 
^knowledge in a form sufficiently attractive^ 


and so suited to the capacities of children as 
to awaken their interest and excite in them a 
thirst for knowledge; in truth, to eflfect a 
threefold oWect, namely, to teacl^ them to 
read, to cultivate in their minds a love of 
reading, and, at the same time, to impart 
sound and useful instruction in those matters 
relating to every-day life, for which no special 
times can he set apart in the daily routine of 
an elementary school. 

Hitherto this difficulty has seemed insuper- 
able; and this has led to the production of 
books addressed almost exclusively to the 
imagination — the moral and emotional nature 
of children — to tiie rimost total omission of 
subjects of practical utility. 

Although it must be allowed that a vary 
gratifying degree of success has attended the 
use of such books, and it cannot be wished 
that they should be superseded, as they cer- 
tainly fulfil a very important office in the 
training of the children in elementary schools, 
the Editors beHeve it is generally felt by 
all thoughtful friends of elementary educa- 
tion, that the School means of training the 
young wfll be very insufficient, unless, in 
addition to books cdT this class, others be 
suppUed which shaU affi)rd more practical 
information. Also, it is found in the working 
of a school that a double set of reading-books 
is very advantageous, and teachers will readily 
confess that the benefit derived from an occa* 


sional change of books more than counter- 
balances the sKght additional expense which 
is entailed. 

The great difficulty, however, which has 
been mentioned above, has not, as &r as the 
Editors' knowledge extends, hitherto been 

For the most part, those reading-books 
which aim at giving useful information to their 
young readers, have failed in presenting what 
IS attractive and interesting, and adapted to 
the minds of children* The present Editors 
believe that this comparative* failure may be 
explained partly on the ground that the books 
are written rather by theorists than by persons 
practicaUy axjquainted, aa teachers, with the 
minds of children, and partly that the ex- 
tracts are taken from writers whose ideas and 
language fly far above their heads ; whUe not 
unfrequently too many lessons are prepared by 
the same hand, and thus the books acquire a 
monotonous and wearisome character. 

A further mistake in such books has been 
made by the introduction of subjects in-^ 
volving technical teaching, which the Editors 
feel sure can be imparted effectually only 
through manuals specially treating the several 

The Useful Knowledge Reading Booksy 
therefore, aim chiefly at giving information 
that shall be valuable in itself, and that shall 
also lay a firm basis for any special technical 


education that may be afterwards entered 
upon. This foundation will best be laid by 
imparting to boys, whose livelihood must be 
drawn from the soil, some knowledge of its 
products and of the method of dealing with 
it ; and by supplying, in the case of girls, as 
far as books can do, the immediate and in- 
dispensable need of a real and solid acquaint- 
ance with the practical matters involved in 
the management of a home. It is, further, 
obvious that much information may be given 
of the uses to which agricultural and mineral 
j)roduct8 may be put without entering into 
technicalities ; and in this respect it is hoped 
the present series will not be found wanting. 

The Editors of the Useiul Knowledge 
Reading Books sincerely desire that they may 
not be misunderstood in these remarks. They 
make them in no captious spirit, but merely 
as explaining the difficulties in the way of 
producing a really suitable series of Useful 
Knowledge Reading Books ; and as indicating 
the causes of the defects which are admitted 
by practical persons to prevail in most exist- 
ing books of the kind. 

In determining, therefore, the principles 
which should guide them in the production 
of these series, the Editors set before them- 
selves the following points, and have done their 
best to carry them out : — 

1. The lessons contained in the books must 


impart useful knowledge^ including in this 
moral teaching. 

2. They must be concise, yet comprehen- 

3. They must have variety and attractive- 
ness in style, and be level with the capacities 
of the children for whom they are intended. 

4. They must not treat of subjects tech- 
nically, technical teaching being inappro- 
priate to such books, and above the capacities 
of the children for whom they are mtended. 

5. Looking at the fact that the pursuits 
and interests of girls are, for the most part, 
diflferent from those of boys, although they 
have much in common, it would be useful and 
desirable to present a series drawn up especially 
for girls. (This series, the Editors hope, will 
be considered particularly valuable, present- 
ing, as it does, the results of the experience 
and knowledge of those who, having devoted 
their time and talents to the training and man- 
agement of the young of their own sex^ must be 
peculiarly, and it may be almost said exclu- 
sively, qualified to produce lessons suited to 
the wants and capacities of girls.) 

6. To carry out the idea, many coadjutors 
must be obtained specially qualified for the 

The Editors, feeling assured that school- 
masters and schoolmistresses actually engaged 
in teaching the young are best qualified* to 


write lessons calculated to interest boys and 
girls, and adapted to their capacities, appealed 
3iei*efore to many teachers of approved ability 
to aid them in tms important work — an appeal 
which, they are thankful to say, has been 
responded to in the best spirit; and they 
have great pleasure in announcing that they 
have been assisted m the work in hand by 
some of the best educated and most expe- 
rienced of the trained and certificated masters 
and mistresses of elementary schools, and have 
ftlso received the kind aid of personal friends 
coimected with educational work. With such 
invaluable help, they have been able to produce 
two series of books — one for Boys and another 
for Girls — which they hope will thoroughly 
meet the wants of the classes for whose in- 
struction they are intended. 


I. The Committee of Council on Education now require that 
each School subject to Inspection shall be provided with 
TWO ooKFLEXB SETB OF KisAJ^nrchBDOKS, and that the 
children presented for examination shall show an acquaint- 
ance with the stTBTBOi: hatteb of the Lessons contamed in 
their respective standards. 

XL Her Majesty's Inspectors require in Schools, where Singing 
is not taught from notes, that the children shall be able to 
sing at least six songs from memory with correct words, 
tune, and time. The Editors have therefore inserted in 
each standard of this series several pieces of poetry which 
have been set to music, in order that the children may have 
the means of learning the words correctly before they are 
taught to sing them. See page ziL 





f • 


The Semes . . • EtC. 1 

Bread . . . . « . . JET. C. 8 

Truth * . .. . '• •' a • M^J.Y* 5 

Foetryz Lattle White Lily . . . . &. MaodonM 7 

The Dog . . . •JSr.e, 8 

The Cat id 10 

Poetry : Cock-a-doodle-^loo • J2. X. JET. IS 

The Fig** -• -• • •• •• -• *• *• E,'S, 14 

Good Temper .E. 7. iSL 19 

Fish • . . ^. a 19 

/Ve^: Bobin Bedhreast . . W, AMmgham 21 

Water * . JBL J7. Sfi 

The Monkey ....•« id, 24 

i^Mfyy: Nutting jR»Z.A S7 

The Hone E^S. 28 

Kindness E. J. Y. ^ 

The Goat JT. C. 82 

The Saephaxrt «IL 84 

Poetry : Gome to the Bam and Flay . . J2. X. H, 87 

Trees .••••.••• ^. S* 88 

Coal «f. 40 

Duties in School E, T. 8. ^ 

The Cow E. H. 46 

Poetry : The Nests of Birds .... Anon, 48 

Cheese D, W. 60 

Butter id. 62 

The Lion • XT. C. 54 



Po^ry: Willie and the Beeti . . . It. L. IT, 66 

Honesty • ; . . . 

. K B. H. 58 

The Sheep «... 

. E,H. 60 



id, 63 

Cotton . • • . . 


. H.C. 65 


. JF. jsr. 68 

Mountains .... 

. ILMcW. 70 

Poetry : The Rainy Day " , 


. ILL.H, 72 



. R.McW. 74 

Glass • • • . » 

. 2>. W. 76 


id. 78 

RilV ........ 


. . . . jy. C. 80 

The Uses of Animalfi • 

• * 

. . . . D. TT. 83 

JPdetty : The Beggar Man . . 


R,L.H. 85 

A House • ... 

• 2>. If. 87 

The Seasons 

» * 

... ui 89 

Poetry : Good Night . . 

22. i. H. 91 

. D. ^. 93 

Coffee . 

V * 

. . . id. Qb 


, « 

^ 1 

«?. 97 

Eandness to Animals . . 


. E. B. H. 99 

Poetry: Little Jim .. 

. Edward Farmer 101 

Jack Frost . . 

, 1 

. . E.T. 8. 103 

* 1 4 

id. 107 

7%e same {GODcLuded) . . 

» » i 


«i 111 


• ^ 


. ., ftf. 115 

JI0 Initialed Lessom in this volume are Copyright, and aU rights fH 
them are reserved by the ProprietorSf 



H. C. 
E. J. Y. 

R. lit a» 


E. T. S. 
E. S« £[• 

Mr. Chaitekton^ Tonhridge Wells. 

Mr. H. CoHBES^ Poplar I^ee School 

Miss Yabnold, Mentmore School^ Letgh- 
ton Buzzard, 

Miss HiBBERT, Edmburgh Academy, 

Mr. E. HtKES, Middlesex Society^s School, 
Cannon St., E, 

Rev. £dwd. T. Stevens, B.A., Oxon^ 

Mr. D. WiLBDre, Orantham, 

Mr. R B. Hewitt, Oxford. 

Mr. R. McWiLLiAM, Crawford Street 
School, S.E. 


KuTB. — ^The Edifxsn wUX atteem it « Hrcnx if teacfaen wDl kindly 
inf onn them of any poems in this book vfaidi liave been, or 
may hereafter be, set to music, in ordar that they may be 
Inentioned hera. 





see-ing pret-ty fin-gers 

hear-ing dan-ger gar-den 

tast-ing cel-lar flow-ers 

feel-ing child-ren af-ford 

smell-ing friends plea-sure 

beg-gar peo-ple thank-ful 

We have five senses: these are seeing, 
hearing, tasting, feeling, and smelling. 

When people cannot see we say they are 
blind. We are very sorry for the poor blind; 
they cannot see any of the pretty things that 
are around them, and thev are often in great 
danger of being hurt. We ought, therefore, 
to be very kind to them. One day a blind 
beggar was walking along the street, and came 
near a place where a cellar door was open. 
He would have fallen into it, and been very 
much hurt, had not a little boy pulled him 

I. B. B 


When any one cannot hear he is said to be 
deaf. It is very sad to be deaf, for then we 
do not know when we are called, and cannot 
hear what our kind friends say to us* Most 
children, too, who are bom deaf are also 

If you had a ripe rosy apple given you, you 
would be pleased, and you would eat it, and say 
it was very nice. Do you know why you can 
tell that a thing is nice to eat ? It is because 
you can taste it. There are very few people 
who cannot taste what they eat. 

Have you ever heard a blind man reading ? 
You may have thought it very strange that 
he could read, when he could not see. But 
did you look at his fingers, and notice how 
they moved along the lines of the page ? The 
letters were all raised, and the poor blind man 
could feel them with his fingers, and so could 
read the book. 

Just come with me into this pretty garden ; 
here are all sorts of flowers. Take this rose 
and look at it ; put it to your nose, and tell 
me what you think about it; you say it is 
sweet. You have not tasted it, but you mean 
that it has a sweet smell. You smell by means 
of your nose. I once knew a man who could 
only say that flowers were very pretty ; they did 
not afibrd him any more pleasure because he 
could not smell them. 

We see, then, with our eyes, hear with our 
ears, taste with our mouth, feel with our 

boys' first standard. . 3 

hands, and smell with our nose. How thank- 
ful we ought to be to God for giving us the 
use of all our senses ! E. C. 














batch- es 



' All hot ! all hot ! smoking all hot ! ' This is 
the cry of a small boy who carries a large 
basket with a thick blanket on the top of it. 
What has he got that wants keeping warm 
this fine summer morning? Here he is at our 
gate, he is coming to the door. ' Any hot 
rolls to-day, ma'am? Nice and hot, all hot, 
smoking hot!' Ah, I see it is the baker's 
lad, he is bringing round rolls for breakfast. 
He and his master were up verj'^ early 
making and baking bread. They have just 
taken a batch of loaves out of the oven, and 
the rolls along with them. I like the look of 
the crisp, crusty loaves, and the rolls are very- 
nice to eat, but neither hot rolls nor new 
bread are so wholesome as bread a day old. 
Give me a good firm loaf, and then I can cut 
some all-round slices for the young folks that 
are even now waiting at the breakfast table to 
be served. There's little Tot sitting before 
her basin of milk asking for a piece all crumb. 

B 2 


Tom, with his eye on the treacle pot, wants a 
good all-rounder, and Willy prefers a nice 
crust on which he can bestow lots of butter. 
Very well, very well, my little birds, for once 
you shall have your way, and take your 
choice. Bread and milk, bread and treacle, 
bread and butter, make up your minds and 
speak out. Who is for milk, who says treacle, 
who wishes for bread and butter? Sit still 
and think a minute before you begin, and in 
your hearts give thanks for your 'Daily 

Will any one take any more? A small 
piece for Tom ? Very well, if you want it you 
shall have it. But what is this I spy under 
the table? A half-eaten crust, surely. Who 
threw it there ? Some one, I fear, who asked 
for another slice after he had eaten enough. 
Take care not to waste good food. * Waste 
not, want not ' is an old saying and a good 

Here are some lines on the subject you may 
learn by heart: — 

' I must not throw upon the floor 
The crust I cannot eat. 
For many little hungry ones 
Would think it quite a treat.' 

What does the baker make the bread of, 
and how does he make it? If you were to 
peep into his bake-house you would see large 
bins full of flour, ready for mixing with the 

boys' first standard. 5 

ferment or yeast, and water and a little salt. 
After he has mixed these well together, he 
kneads the whole mass into dough, which he 
leaves for a time to lighten or rise. He then 
cuts off piece by piece, again kneads it, forms 
it into loaves, and pops it into his wide-mouthed 
oven to bake. 

When we think how much we depend on 
bread for our daily fpod, we may well call it the 
Staff of Life. Let us always be thankful 
when we have it, and do our part to help those 
who have it not. 

' Give us this day our daily bread.' 

H. C. 














Every boy or girl who may read this book 
has heard of truth; and, I hope, tries to act 
truth, as well as to speak it. Let us see what 
the Bible says about truth. In that Holy 
Book we may read these words : ' Let not 
mercy and truth forsake thee ; bind them about 
thy neck ; write them upon the table of thine 
heart.' This verse teaches us to be always 
truthful, and never for one moment even to 
thmk of telling a lie. 

We also read in the Bible about a servant 
who told his master a lie ; and how God pun- 



ished hill) by making him a leper. Now, a 
leper is a man who is covered all over with 
very bad sores, that no doctor can cure. No 
one will go near a leper for fear of catching 
the sores ; so this servant had to go and live 
away from all his friends, and never got well 

Then there was a man who told Peter a lie, 
and God made him drop down dead. After a 
little while this man's wife came to Peter and 
told him the same lie, and God sent sudden 
death upon her too. 

This man and his wife agreed to tell the 
same lie, and God punished them both alike. 
You may judge from this how much God hates 
a lie. 

Sometimes little children tell a lie to get 
out of trouble, or to escape a scolding. This is 
very wrong as well as very foolish ; for if their 
parents or teachers never find out when they 
teU a Ue, God knows it, and He will punish 

Very often, too, when a child has told one lie 
he has to tell a second to prevent the first 
from being found out. See how one fault 
leads to another ! Even if you know you will 
be punished, never tell a fie to hide a fault, 
rather repent and confess it, and you will then 
be less likely to commit the fault a^ain. 

If you wish to be loved by God, ^eak the 
truth. If you wifih to gain the love and respect 
of men, never tell a lie. E. F. Y* 

boys' first standard. 


droop-ing wait-ing sun-shine 

dress-ed shin-ing white-ness 

crown-ed be-side hold-eth 

thirst-y strong-er hap-py 

Little white lily 

Sat by a stone, 
Drooping and waiting 

Till the sun shone* 
Little white lily 

Sunshine has fed ; 
Little white lily 

Is lifting her head, , 

Little white lily 

Said, ' It is good,' 
Little white lily's 

Clothing and food. 
Little white lily. 

Dressed like a bride, 
Shining with whiteness. 

And crowned beside. 

Little white lily 

Droopeth with pain, 
Waiting and waiting 

For the wet rain. 
Little white lily 

Holdeth her cup; 
Rain is fast falling 

And filling it up. 


Little white lily 

Said, ' Good again ; 
When 1 am thirsty 

To have nice rain; 
Now I am stronger, 

Now I am cool; 
Heat cannot burn me, 

My veins are so full.' 

Little white lily 

Smells very sweet ; 
On her head sunshine, 

Rain at her feet. 
* Thanks to the sunshine, 

Thanks to the rain ! 
Little white lily 

Is happy again ! ' 

G. Macdonald. 


teach-ing a-fraid mis-tress 

strang-er al-though be-lieve 

sauc-y shab-by pleas-ant 

peo-ple ken-nel ram-ble 

threat-en wist-ful staunch 

* * Beg ! beg ! there's a good dog.' This was 
what little Kate Sparkes was saying to her pet 
spaniel as I passed by the door. She was 
teaching him to stand on his hind legs, and to 
put up his fore paws in a fiinny manner. 
Every time he did it to please her she gave 
him some biscuit, which he had no sooner 
eaten than he stood up for a piece more. 


He was a good-looking, curly-haired dog 
about the size of a rabbit. As he was well- 
fed, and well-cared for in every way, he looked 
sleek and saucy, and I am bound to add that 
he was quite as saucy as his looks. Let but 
a stranger put his hand on the garden gate, 
and Carlo, that was his name, would bark as 
loud as he was able, and rush out at the new 
comer, as if he meant to eat him, clothes and 
all. But for all that Carlo was not a bad dog, 
and didn't really bite people, as he seemed to 
threaten so often to do. Perhaps, as he was 
so small, he was afraid they would not notice 
him if he did not make a great noise. Is it 
not so sometimes with little folks? I fear it 
is. Now although we could pardon such 
bad manners in a dog, we expect better things 
of boys and girls. 

There was another dog I used to meet now 
and again, who was not so weU off as Carlo. 
The boys used to call him ragged Jem, because 
his coat always looked ragged, shabby, and 
dirty. I think he was dirty and shabby 
because he had no kennel of his own, and was 
obliged to sleep on door-steps and dust-heaps, 
and as for being ragged, why, that was his 
nature, he would have had rags for his coat, 
and a head like a mop, even if Miss Sparkes 
had been his mistress. 

What struck Ine most about Jem was his 
wistful look; no one owned him, and he owned 
no one for master and friend. I verily believe, 


if he could have spoken, he would have asked 
me more than once to take him home. And, 
indeed, I might have done so; but had I not 
two dogs already ? At home in the back yard 
there was Towser, a blinking, bare-backed old 
rascal, who wasted hours and hours of precious 
time basking in the sun, or snoozing away in 
his tub with his nose just peeping out. In- 
doors on the hearth-rug was Myrtle, a lady of 
high degree, clothed in a black silk dress and 
tan-coloured stockings. It was certain I had 
no room for doggy number three. But the 
dog I had most regard for was a large sheep- 
dog called Lion. Lion was no great beauty 
to look at, but his broad forehead, and his 
large hazel eye, told you at a glance what a 
thoughtful old fellow he was. He used to look 

feople hard in the face and make up his mind, 
thought, whether he should like them or not. 
At any rate he made up his mind very soon 
to be friendly with me, and many a pleasant 
ramble have I had through the fields, and 
along the sea shore, with my staunch old friend, 
and if need were, my protector, Lion. 

H. C. 


kit-ty frol-ic quick-ly 

catch-es en-joy fol-low 

cun-ning per-chance trav-el 

pre-tends per-haps cru-el 

thouffht-ful in-stead rhyme 

boys' first standard. 11 

I should think there is hardly a boy or girl 
to be found who has not had a game with 
kitty. And what a fine playmate she is! 
How she bounds after a cork tied to a string, 
or darts up and catches your finger with her 
paw as you slowly move it along your knee ! 
She is very sharp and cunning withal, is this 
pussy. Just as you think she is getting tired 
of the fun, and is not caring at all about your 
finger, pat, she has it with a sharp claw just 
put a little way out of her soft paw, to hold it 
fast if you try to draw it away. Well and 
good, if you let it remain, then she will not 
hurt you; but if you quickly snatch it up, 
you need not wonder if you get a scratch, 
only do not blame puss for it, as it was your 
fault, not her's. Then, again, sometimes she 
pretends to bite, and the sharp points of her 
teeth will just make a little mark, but will not 
hurt you if you let her have her way. 

How full of fun and frolic these little pussy- 
cat folk are, to be sure ! They look mischief 
all over, and seem to live only to enjov them- 
selves. And so it is while they are young, but 
by and by, when they become full-sized grown 
up cats, they will be veiy grave and thought- 
ful. Instead of running round and round 
after their tails, they will sit by the fiA, or 
bask in the sun, or by way of a change watch 
at a hole for a mouse, or lie in wait for a stray 
. Puss is a very careful mother. Should her 


kittens be in any danger, she will try to carry 
them away one by one in her mouth to a 
place of safety. Loving to be clean herself 
she seems never tired of washing and making 
them tidy too. When they are big enough to 
romp, she plays with them, running and leap- 
ing about like a mad thing, and when tired 
her tail amuses them till they fall asleep 
between her paws. 

If you look at the eye of a cat in thie day time, 
the middle part of it seems almost shut up, 
but after dark it opens into a round ball, taking 
in all the light it can collect. This is why 
puss can see so well at night, and is able to 
spy out and pounce upon any unlucky mouse 
who may be going to a quiet cheese party 
after the candles are put out, and the good 
people of the house are in bed. 

Cats are said to be more fond of the house 
than of the people who live in it. This is 
erhaps true when they are not treated well, 
ut when they are kindly used, they will follow 
those who feed and caress them, purring and 
tr3dng in their way to say, * How glad I am to 
see you ! * * Let me shake paws with you.' It 
is a common saying that cats have nme lives, 
because they so often escape when in danger, 
but it would be very cruel and wrong to put 
their lives in peril, or to torment them, because 
we fancy they will in some way or other get 
off unhurt. 

Many stories have been told to show how 


boys' first standard. 13 

much sense cats have in finding their way back 
to the home from which they have been taken ; 
and there seems no reason to doubt thftt some 
have returned firom places far distant to the 
old house at home. There is a most famous 
story about puss which you must read, if you 
have not done so; I mean that about Dick 
Whittington and his cat. H. C. 


morn-ing earl-y light 

fight heard shed 

comb fi-er-y hap-pen 

flap-ping fu-ry hur-ry 

ad-vice lov-ing boast 


Was a merry boy; 
To get up in the morning 

Was his pride and joy ; 
And to march before his hens 

In the early light, 
Crying, ' Cock-a-doodle-doo ! 

Who will come and fight? ' 

Cock-a-Leerie heard him 

From the other shed, 
Down came Cock-a-Leerie, 

His comb all fiery red; 
And such a fight did happen 

As I'm sure I cannot tell, 
The flapping and the fiiry. 

And the hurry, all pell mell. 


And now, dear Kttle pupU, 

I give advice to you, 
"Rise in the morning early. 

Like Cock-a-doodle-doo; 
But be you kind and loving, 

And good the whole day through, 
But never boast, and strut, and fight, 

Like Cock-a-doodle-doo. R. L. H. 


im-prov-ed neigh-bour butch-er 

slop-ing cab-bage col-our 

re-sult car-rots fla-vour 

pleas-ant rel-ish whole-some 

Come here, George, and look at the pig 
again, and see whether you think he has 

fown and improved since we bought him. 
ou see we have put a new sloping slate roof 
to his bedroom, to keep it dry and warm, and 
his bed is as clean as fresh straw can be. The 
outer part of his sty is paved with smooth 
bricks, and the whole floor slants towards the 
middle and drains into that hole in the gar- 
den. The result of all this is that piggy is 
as pleasant a neighbour as one could wish to 
have. You see, too, that all the scales are gone 
off his back, and that his skin is quite 
smooth and glossy. He is putting his fore- 
feet to the top of the sty, and grunting for us 
to brush him, and he will stand quite still 
while we are doing it. With a little trouble 


a pig can be made as clean as a sheep, and 
then his flesh is nice wholesome food. 

But something else is wanted besides a 
good sty and care, and that something is good 
food. We boil up all the spare cabbage and 
carrots and other things in the garden, and 
these he eats with a relish. We also mix up 
his meal with the liquor made in cooking, and 
now and then give him a few peas to warm 
him. In about a twelvemonth we shall put 
him up to fatten, and then we shall feed him 
on barley-meal and peas. We shall then kill 
him at the proper time of the year, and his 
flesh will supply us with pork and bacon for a 
long time. 

When the butcher has killed him, he wiU 
put him into a tub of hot water to soften the 
hair, and will then scrape it aU ofi^ with a blunt 
knife. He will then hang him up by the heels 
to cool, and on the next day come and cut him 

With the rough parts, such as the head, we 
shall make brawn, and with the trimmings 
we shall make pork pies. Some of the joints 
we shall roast, and eat as fresh pork, and the 
sides we shall soak in salt and put into a 
tub of brine for future use. Of the hind 
legs we shall make hams, by salting them 
and having them dried. They will be hung 
up in a bacon loft, and burning sawdust, or 
something like it, will fill the room with 
smoke, and colour the hams a fine clear brown, 


and give them a very nice flavour. Most 
people reckon them the best; part of the pig, 
and when they are cooked we shall have a 

There are very few parts of a pig which are 
not eaten as food ; even the blood is mixed up 
with other things, and eaten by some people 
who have not a very dainty taste. Pork is not 
wholesome during the hot months of May, 
June, July, and August, that is, during the 
months which have no *r' in them. The 
Jews do not eat pork at all, and some Chris- 
tians also object to it as likely to produce 
disease; but well-fed pork seems to be as 
harmless as other kinds of meat. E. H. 












We all like to have to do with boys and 
girls who are not very soon put ou% who, 
when things go wrong, do not make them 
worse by flying into a passion, or sit down and 
sulk, instead of trying to make them better. 

* John, work these ten sums for me, and 
Mary, do the same.' 

John looks at the sums, thinks them very 
hard, and makes up his mind at once that he 


-will never be able to get them right Then, in- 
stead of setting to work, he stares about, first 
plays with his fingers, and then with his pen- 
cil, and then at last, seeing his teacher is look- 
ing at him, he works the first sum, and looks 
for the answer. Is it right? No, three 
figures wrong. John gets cross, and says he 
shall never get them right. Then he begins 
to sulk. ' I can't do them ; they won't come 
right,' says he, and they don't come right, of 
course ; would it not be a wonder if they did ? 
Mary, who has the same sums to do, looks 
at the first, and does not trouble herself about 
the rest for the present. She, too, thinks it 
rather hard, but instead of getting into a bad 
temper, she works away at once. You may 
see, if you look in her face, that she is trying 
in earnest. Soon she has brought out her 
answer. * Now ! let me see whether that is 
right/ says Mary to herself as she turns to 
the answers in her book and finds she has 
three figures wrong. ' Why, dear me, I've 
made a mistake. Let me see where it is. Ah, 
I've found it; I've set down nine times three 
are fourteen ; what could I have been thinking 
about? Of course, that makes it all wrong*' 
At once she rubs out all her figures from that 
point, and works away again with more care 
than before. * Now let me see whether I'm 
right. Yes; just like the answer in the book. 
That's one to me,' says Mary. * Well, number 
two, what sort of a sum are you? I see you 

I. B, C 


are a hard one. But I think I can do you, if I 
try/ Down go the figures, no looking about 
• the room, no playing with fingers. ' Now are 
you right? Kight the. first time,' says she, 
looking out the answer. ' That's two to me.* 

All this time John is sulking over his number 
one, because it did not come right at first.. 

So Mary works the third, and the fourth, 
and the fifth, and so on with the rest, and 
though they don't all come right at once, 
she gets them right at the second or third 
attepipt, and by the end of the lesson has 
done them all. But John, sulky fellow, 
because his did not. come right the nrst time, 
lost his temper, and so has to stay in school 
to work whilst Mary enjoys her well-earned 
galeae with her school-fellows. 

When you have work to do, set about it 
with a good temper. If your parents or 
teachers have to punish you for a fault, be sorry 
you have done wrong, and try to improve ; 
but don't be out of temper with those whose 
duty it is to correct you. When you are 
at play, whether you lose or win, keep your 
temper. Some one miLst lose. If any one 
injure you, and you have to reprove him for it, 
keep your temper. A quiet reproof will do 
him more good than if you were to get into a 
passion., If you want to get out of trouble 
th^t has come upon you, whether by your own 
fault or not, keep your temper. For good 
temper has won more battles than aiiything 
3lse in this world. - E. Iv S. 


FISH. \ 

hol-i-day her-ring jAys-ic 

fish-ing mack-er-el salm-on 

siir-&ce ^x-cept sil-ver-y 

fas*ten-ed be-tween mud-dy 

isl-and slant-iiig salt-ed 

catch-ing po-si-tion pick-led 

tur-bot val-ue pre-serve 

Many boys when they have" a holiday take 
their fishing rods to the side of a stream, to 
catch the fish that swim under the surface of 
the water. They take with them a piece of 
bread, or some flies, or anything that the fish 
will eat, and they put this bait, as it is called, 
on a hook which is fastened to one end of a 
long line, the other end of which is tied to 
the rod. The rod is held in the hand, while 
the line and bait are thrown into the stream. 
As soon as the fish takes the bait into its 
mouth the hook remains there alsp, and the 
fish is caught. 

Fish is a very useful kind of food, and may 
be had at all seasons of the year. It is found 
in great numbers along the shores- of our' own 
island. This is called salt-water fish, and a 
great many men and boys earn their living 
by catching it. They use very large nets 
which they throw out into the sea from boats. 
Most of their work is done at night, for very 
few of the fish will enter the nets by day. 

The chief salt-water fish used as food are 



the turbot, sole, cod, herring, sprat, and 

The turbot is the most prized of all the flat 
fish. It is taken with hooks and lines^ except 
on the sand banks between the coasts of Eng- 
land and Holland, where nets are used. The 
sole is one of the very few fish that have eyes 
on only one side of the head. It swims in 
a slanting position, with its eyes towards the 
top of the water. The cod is of great value 
to us in many ways. Its flesh is eaten as food, 
and from its liver is taken oil which is used 
for physic. Herrings swim in shoals which 
sometimes stretch four or five miles in length, 
and three or four in breadth. Very fine nets 
are needed to catch sprats, which are in season 
in the winter. Mackerel are caught in large 
numbers on the west coast of England. 

Our chief fresh-water fish are the salmon, 
the trout, and the eeL 

The salmon is covered with bright silvery 
scales. Great numbers are found in the rivers 
of Scotland. The trout is found in shaded 
streams; it has a silvery body with red and 
black spots. The eel is in form like a serpent. 
It is found in muddy waters, and is caught by 
means, of a trap called an eel-pot. 

Fish in a fresh state can only be kept for 
a few days, but if it be dried, salted, or pick«> 
led, it will keep a long time. Ice is often 
used to preserve fish. E. C. 

boys' first standabd. 21 

















Good bye, good bye to summer ! 

For summer's going fast; 
The garden's lost its beauty, 

The long warm days are past; 
Our thrushes now are silent. 
Our swallows flown away ; 
But robin's here in coat of brown, 
And scarlet breast-knot gay. 
Robin ! robin redbreast ! 

0, robin dear ! 
Robin sings so sweetly 
In the falling of the year. 

Bright yellow, red, and orange. 

The leaves come down in hosts; 
The trees are Indian princes, 

But soon they'll turn to ghosts. 
The leathery pears and apples 
Hang russet on the bough ; 
It's autumn, autumn, autumn, late^ 
'Twill soon be winter now. 
Robin, robin redbreast ! 

0, robm dear ! 
And what will this poor robin do? 
For pinching, days are near* 


The fireside for the cricket, 

The wheat-stock for the moose, 
When trembling night winds whistle 

And rnoau i^U round the house* 
The frosty ways like iron, 

The branchea plumed with snoW| 
Alas ! in winter dead and dark, 
TVhere can poor robin go? 
Robin, robin redbreast ! 

0, robin dear ! 
And a crumb of bread for robin, 
His little heart to cheer. 

W. Allingham. 


va-pour ftoUd fro^-en 

as-cends liq-uid weath-er 

mead-ows gas-eous sur-face 

brim-ming put-ting thous-ands 

The water of the sea is always salt, and in 
some parts of the world there are also a few 
salt-water lakes. Springs, too, exist, whose 
water is made salt by passing through beds of 
rock-salt in the earth. 

Fresh water is formed from salt water in 
this way ;-r-The heat of the sim causes vapour 
to rise from the s^a in Just the sapci/e manner 
as fire causes stean^ to rise from water. Some 
of this vapour spreads througboiit the air, and 
is the sooisture fr6m whicjh 4-ew i@ formed. 
But it jftteQis^rv^ t6 prev'ent the;*scape of the 


heat of the earth. It is said that if all mois* 
ture could be withdrawn from the air for a 
single night, everything would be frozen to 
death bv the morning. But the greater 
part of tne vapour from the sea ascends until 
it comes to a part of the ait which is of its 
Own weight, and there forms clouds. The 
clouds float about, getting more and more 
heavy^ until at last the air can support them no 
longer. They then come back to the earth 
again as fresh water in the form of rain. 

Some of the rain water runs along the sur* 
face of the ground, through the meadows^ 
among the trees and flowers, into the rivers, 
and with them runs back to the ocean again. 
Some sinks into the ground and is taken up by 
trees and plants ; and after passing throuffh 
Amgoe. L through their leLs ilto the .i. 
Some of it is slightly changed by passing into 
the earth, and becomes spring water, suited for 
the use of men. And some sinks deep into 
the earth, and forms large ponds there. 

Even cold water contains some heat, and 
when this heat is withdrawn the water turns 
to ice. But when more heat is put into it, it 
turns to steam. Water is the liquid form, 
ice is the solid form, arid steam is the gaseous 
form. In the reverse way, ice can be 
turned to water by putting more heat into it, 
and steam can be turned to water by taking 
the heat out of it. 

liVlien the vapour of water is frozen it turn^ 


to pretty little crystals, and these join and 
form flakjes of snow. Hail is rain that has 
been frozen as it is falling towards the earth. 
When it falls in the summer it is formed in 
the upper parts of the air which are always 
cold even in the hottest weather. 

There is nothing which has worked such 
great changes in the earth's surface as water. 
It has carried away whole tracts of the surface 
from one part of a country and spread them out 
as fertile plains in other parts. Rivers, with 
the mud brought down from the mountains, 
have formed tongues of land that reach out 
into the sea for many miles, and the sea has 
wa&hed away whole districts along the coast. 
It has formed beds and hills of chalk that reach 
hundreds of miles. And it has formed even 
beds of stone that are thousands of feet in 
thickness. E. H. 


guin-ea coun-tries brought 

know al-though ap-pears 

dread -ful cou-ple gloss-y 

twist-ing swing-ing piec-es 

col-our pa-tient straight 

My monkey's name is Atto, and he knows 
his name as well as we know ours. He 
was born in Guinea, one of the hottest coun- 
tries in the world. When the black boy 
brought him to me he was so small that I 

boys' first standard. 25 

could put him into my pocket, and now he is 
more than half a yard high as he sits. See 
what an odd-looking face he has, something 
like an old man's. Although he is so pleased 
to see us, yet he never laughs or smiles. He 
appears to be very mild as he sits there look* 
ing at us, but he sometimes gets in a dreadful 
rage. But, poor fellow, he does not know any 
better. Here, Atto, are some nuts for you. 
He is very fond of all sorts of nuts, and fruits, 
and cake. You see that he has put a couple 
of nuts into each side of his mouth as there 
are more than he can hold in his hands. He 
has nice glossy silky far, and when he dies 
we shall make a monkey muff of his skin. 
When he first came here his tail was twice as 
long as it is now, but every winter a joint or 
two gets frost bitten and comes off. He uses 
his fingers very nimbly, and you see what 
pretty little hands he has, with thumbs just 
like ours. He has thumbs also on his hind 
feet^ you see, and can hold things with them 
just as well as with his hands. When he 
walks he goes on all four hands, but he does 
not often walk on the ground in his wild state. 
He passes his time in the trees, and there, of 
course, his four hands are of the greatest use 
to him. Some monkeys use their tail as a 
fifth hand, twisting it round a branch, and 
swinging down to the bough below them. 
Monkeys are of all sizes from six inches to six 
feet high. The very large ones are said to 


walk upright sometimes, and to be so strong 
that they can break down small trees to get at 
tlie fruit on the top of them. They are very 
savage indeed, and when they fight they take 
the greatest delight in tearing each other to 
pieces. Small monkeys go about in flocks, 
and a party of monkeys in the trees wiU make 
as much noise as a party of boys in a play- 
ound. They differ as much in colour as 
ey do in size ; some are black, some brown, 
some grey, and some nearly white. A monkey 
without a tail is called an ape. Monkeys are 
very full of mischief, but they are very patient. 
When we wish to amuse Atto^ we sometimes 
^ive him a piece of string tied in a hundred 
knots and tangled into a ball, and he will untie 
every knot and get the string out straight. If 
ou give him an apple that is too large for the 
ars of his cage, he will put his hand through 
and hold the apple outside, and then bite it all 
round until he can get it inside. If yoii put 
a stick into his cage he will not allow you to 
get it again, but will put it near the bars 
and pretend to take no notice of it; but as 
soon as you attempt to take it he pounces upon 
it, and moves it a little further away. 

I dare say you have heard of the cunning 
monkey who wanted to get out of the fire 
the chestnuts he had been roasting, and find- 
ing it rather warm work, took the cat's paw 
to pull them out with. E. H. 


boys' first standabd* 27 


au-tumn love-ly climb-ed 

beam-ing pur-pk stream-let 

mur-mur-ed clus-ters ri-pen-ed 

tum-bled aing-itig joy*ous 

Little WiUie Wilkin 

Went out a-nutting gay, 
With his school-bag on his back, 

One lot^ely autumn day ; 
And then he climbed the low trees, 

And then he climbed the high, 
Away amid the branches, 

Neo-th the blue and beaming sky. 

The robin sang beside him, 

And the blackbird whistled loud. 
And the lark was high above him, 

Near a blue and purple cloud ; 
And a gentle streamlet murmured, 

Through amid the trees^ 
And through amid the green leaveB 

Sighed tibe autumn breeze. 

What a happy boy was Willie ! 

'Mong the clusters rich and browi;i 
. Of ripened hazel nuts 

That tumbled, tumbled down, 
And dropt amid the briers and ferns, 

Now one, now Iwo, now three j 

Ad happy httle Willie 
Shook the hazel tree. 

... , - • •- • 's ' ' ■ - : r\ i 1 


Down came Willie Wilkin 

Happy as a king^ 
And as all the birds were singing 

Willie too began to sing. 
With nuts his little school-bag 

Was full as ftdl could be ; 
How joyous is the shady wood, 

How green the hazel-tree! R. L. H. 


pa-tience ex-pense pro-duce 

con-stant mead-ows slen-der 

har-ness car-rots mus-cles 

re-quires chest-nuts sold-ier 

The horse is so useful to man that he is 
bred and trained with^ the greatest care hi 
almost every country in the world. He is 
always willing to work when he is healthy and 
well fed, and if treated kindly seems to take 
delight m doing as his owner wishes him to 
do. His great strength and length of wind 
make him able to go a long distance, and do a 
great deal of work in a day. 

But he does not know how to work until he 
has been taught, and it reauires great patience 
and skill to teach him. His trainers are very 
careful not to frighten him or spoil his temper, 
and by constant care they teach him to go in 
harness, and to allow people to ride on his 

He requires a warm, airy, well-drained 

boys' first standard. 29 

stable, and a good bed of clean straw, for he 
takes cold almost as quickly as we do, and 
when ill he has to be cured at great expense. 
After his day's work is done he requires to be 
washed, combed and fed, and then he is ready to 
refresh himself for the next day. When he is 
in the stable he is fed on oats, beans, chaff and 
hay, and he is very fond of carrots, clover, 
and green stuff. But when over- worked or 
unwell he has to be turned out into the 
meadows, and there he feeds and enjoys him- 
self in the fresh country air, and quickly im- 
proves in health. 

Horses are of many colours, black, white, 
brown, bay, chestnut; and of many kinds, 
race horse, hunter, charger, cart horse, saddle 

The English race horse is the best horse in 
the world, and only by the greatest care taken 
for years have people been able to produce 
him. He is bred only from the best horses, 
and as soon as he is bom, he is taken in hand 
and trained by degrees to run at the highest 
speed. The best race horses will go at the 
rate of nearly a mile a minute for a short time. 
He has a well-formed body without being fat, 
large muscles, sound legs and feet, a slender 
head, a clear bright eye, and a coat like satin. 

The hunter must possess both strength and 
fleetne^s. He has large muscles and a big bony 
frame, and such length of wind that he is 
sometimes able to go forty miles with the 


hounds without stopping, clearing hedges and 
ditches, leaping or swimming brooks, and then 
coming in at the death of the fox. 

The charger or soldier^s horse is stout of 
body, and able to carry a great weight. He is 
taught to obey the slightest hint from the 
hand or the knee of his rider, to charge at full 
gallop, and to pull up or wheel round on the 
mstant, not to be startled at the sound of 
music or firing, and to stand as still as a 

The cart horse is bred large and heavy, as 
he has to pull great weights. The carriage 
horse is tall and long, with a stately step and 
even pace. The saddle horse is strong, light 
and steady, and is sometimes nearly as ' well 
bred as a race horse. E. H* 


ex-plain help-ed knives 

broth-ers chanc-es sur-pris-ed 

break-fast some-times your-self 

hun-gry peo-ple know-ing 

I wish to-day to talk to you about kindness. 
Do you know what kindners is? I will tell 

- Kindness is doing to others what you would 
like them to do for you. Let me explain this 
more fiiUy. Suppose you had to do a very 
long sum, and you were afraid you would not 
havft time for any plav; if your playmate 


came and helped you, would you not say lie 
was very kind ? 

Or, if some morning you had to do some 
work before school, and the little boy next 
door came to help you, so that you might not 
be late, would you not say he was kind? 
Now both these children woidd be doing what 
they would like to have done for them; there- 
fore we say both of them would be kind. 

You all know that it is your duty to be 
kind to your brothers and sisters, and I think 
some of you are, but you must also be kind to 
other children ; in fact, you must be kind to all. 

If you were to count up all the chances you 
have of being kind, you would be surprised 
how many you have every day. Let us try 
to count a few of them. 

You might play with baby while mother 
gets the breakfast ready. Baby would like 
this, and so. would your mother. You might 
help your sister to get the little ones ready 
for school. This would be a great kindness to 

Then when you go to school you might take 
little brother along with you, and hold his 
hand, that he does not fall down; or if he 
should fall down, as he will sometimes, you 
might pick him up, rub the dirt off his hands, 
and give him a kiss. 

You have also a great many chances in 
school of being kind to those who are in the 
same class as yourself, and sometimes to those 


who are not in the same class. When you 
are at play, you might lend your bat or ball 
to another child who has not got one ; or you 
might play in some game which the others are 
very fond of; or if you see a child looking 
very hungry, you might give him a piece of 
your lunch. 

These are only a few of the ways in which 
you may be kind. You must try to find out 
the rest for yourselves. And you will see that 
when you are kind to other people you not 
only make them feel very happy, but you feel 
happy yourself in knowing that you have done 
your duty. E. J. Y. 

















In form the goat is very like the sheep, but 
it has long hair on its body instead of thick 
wool, and its horns are bent back from the 
head, instead of being twisted, as in the case 
of horned sheep. The male also has a long 
tuft of hair hanging down from his lower jaw 
something like a man's beard. Goats are 
much bolder, and more active than sheep. 
They delight in hilly pastures, whex'e they 
can rcUmb.irom rock to rock, and crop the 

boys' first standakd. 33 

sweet mountain herbage. Rarely does a goat 
lose his footing, or miss his mark when he 
takes a leap, nor does he seem to know what 
fear is as he stands on some giddy height, or 
runs swiftly along the very edge of a steep 
cliflF. There are many sorts of goats, the 
ibex and the chamois being two very famous 
kinds, which are found wild in the Alps. 
Men hunt them for the sake of their flesh and 
skins and horns. In our country goats are 
kept for their flesh, which is good for food, and 
for their milk, which, with bread, forms very 
wholesome diet for children. The young of 
the goat is called a kid. How pleasant it is 
to see the kids frolic about on the hill-side ! 
Now they will charge each other full tilt, with 
heads down/ as if they meant to do mischief. 
Again they wheel about, caper round, and 
beat a retreat only to prepare for a fresh onset. 

Grown up goats will butt with their heads 
and attack men or each other if they are teased 
or are angry, or see any one challenge them 
by feigning to butt at them. 

There is a story told of a farmer, whose 
goat, Billy, used to run about in doors and 
out just as he pleased. One day the farmer 
was having a quiet nap in his arm-chair when 
Billy walked in to have a look round. Here 
he found his master snoring loudly, andbobbing 
his head up and down, little dreaming of what 
was in store for him. Billy eyed him for a 
short time and then made up his mind that 

I. B. D 


the moving of the head up and down was 
meant as a challenge to abutting match. This 
he very gladly accepted, and drawing back a 
few paces' he rushed at the drowsy old farmer 
and tumbled him backward on the floor^ chair 
and aU. 

I have also heard of a goat who seeing him- 
self in a mirror, forthwith charged the enemy, 
and broke both his own head and the looking- 
glass. There is, however, a third story of the 
goat from which children may learn a useful 
lesson. Two goats met on a bridge which 
was so narrow as not to afford room for pass- 
ing; so one lay down, and let the other walk 
over his body, after which he got up and 
trotted across in safety. This was much better 
than fighting, and perhaps causing the loss of 
one or boUi lives in the stream below. 

H. C. 






pluck -ing 






lan-guid , 

for-est . 




mpling his 

path through 

wood and 

And canes, which crackling fall before his 

On comes the elephant.' 

boys' first standard. 35 

These lines tell us about the elephant mak- 
ing his way through the higli grass ibnd oaaes 
and tangled woods in order to reach the rirer- 
side to drink. His body is so huge and heavy 
that small trees and bushes, brambles, cailesf 
and tall stiff grasses, are trodden quite flat 
beneath his great broad feet. Although only 
one elephant is spoken of, yet it is very rarely 
that they go about singly or in pairs ; more 
often they are found together in herds of 
twenty or thirty and upwards. It is no 
wonder, therefore, that in their march through 
the forest the canes and saplings crackle and 
fall before their way. Indeed, they make a 
wide open road by whieh they may be tapaeked 
for iniles. 

Elephants are found in hot moist countries, 
such as parts of Africa and India, and not far 
from rivers, where trees and shrubs, and maiiy 
kinds of plants abound, and where a conbtant 
supply of water is sure. 

They feed on grasses and on theyoimg leaves 
and twigs of trees and shrubs, which they are 
able to gather with their trunks. And what 
a strange yet useful member is this trunk ! It 
is long and tapering, ending in something like 
one's fore-finger, and can be moved up and 
dbwn and to the right or left at the will of 
the owner. When he lifts it up you can see 
two round holes at the end of it. In fact it 
is hollow, and can be filled with water to pour 
dowii the elephant's throat when he is thirsty, 



or to throw over hk body to cool himself 
when he is too warm. With it he can pick up 
anything as small as a pin, root up a young 
tree, or break off a great bough to fan himself 

The lines I have quoted go on to say some- 
thing about this : — 

* Lo ! from his trunk uptum'd, aloft he flings 
The grateful shower ; and now 
Plucking the broad-leaved bough 
Of yonder pahn, with waving motion slow 
Fanning the languid air, 
He waves it to and fro.' 

Though the colour of the elephant is mostly 
a blackish brown, yet white, ones are some- 
times to be met witn in parts of Asia. These 
are thought a great deal of, and when caught 
and tamed, are dressed in gay trappings on 
sacred and other great days, and only the king 
and men of high estate are allowed to ride on 

Who would like to have a ride through 
the forest on an elephant ? I think I hear you 
say, * I should, and I, and I.' Boys and girls 
who may chance to see a real live elephant at a 
show may perhaps get a ride on his back. If 
so, they must be careful not to tease him, as 
he is soon made angry. 

I once saw a little boy hold out a cake to 
an elephant, and then snatch it away again. 
This he did two or three times till the beast 

boys' first standard. 37 

became angry, and taking away the boy's 
cap trod it to pieces with his great feet. It 
was as well for the boy that his head was 
not inside of his cap when it was taken. I 
hope none of my little readers take delight in 
teasing dumb creatures. H. C. 


glad-some re-joic-es beau-ty 

plash-ing crow-flow-er mead-ow 

per-fume flow-ers gush-ing 

gath-er peb-bles bright-en 

Come to the bum and play, Willie, 

The sun is shining bright, 
And the happy little fishes 

Leap in the gladsome light, 
And all the world rejoices 

In the beauty of the day, 
So come, dear brother Willie, 

To the plashing bum and play. 

The broom is hanging o*er it 

In all its golden hue, 
And by it blooms the crow-flower 

Witn deep and lovely blue ; 
And from yonder meadow comes 

The perfume of the hay ; 
So come, my brother Willie, 
. To the plashing burn and play. 


0, how I love the flowers. 

The daisy and wild-rose, 
The ffowan and the butter-cap. 

Where the gushing wat^r floi^s ! 
And how I love the months 

Of merry June and May ! 
Come, darling brother Willie, 

To the plashing bum and play. 

And we will gather pebbles 

Where the waters ever sing, 
And we will play at hide and seek 

Where honey-suckles cling. 
come, for flowers and sunshine 

Brighten all the way, 
So come, my brother Willie 

To the plashing burn and play. 

R. L. H. 


beau-ty au-tumn ob-taia . 

for-eign c]aest-nut sup-ply 

blos-soms ap-proach stom-ach 

doc-tor chief-ly con-vey 

Trees are very pleasing to the eye whilst 
they are growing, and of the greatest use 
after they are cut down. Even some of our 
English trees, suqh as the oak, the chestnut, 
and the beech, have great beauty of form, and 
we have only to glance at a tract of couxitry 
without trees to show us the value of them in 
a landscape. But for perfect beauty of shape 


boys' first standard. 39 

we must look to foreign trees with their long 
slender stems, their curving branches, their 
graceful drooping leaves, and their blossoms of 
the brightest colours. 

We have only to name a few of the pro 
ducts of trees to show us at once how useful 
they are. The oak, the beech, the elm, and 
the teak tree give us the finest timber ; and 
both native and foreign trees supply us with 
the choicest fruits. The maple gives us sugar ; 
india rubber is the juice of one tree, and gutta • 
percha that of a second; and such a number 
of things are got fi-om the palm tree, that the 
people of countries where it grows can furnish 
their houses and get food enough to live on 
from that tree alone. The bark of the oak is 
used in tanning, and that of^ some foreign 
trees gives doctors some of their finest drugs. 

Trees are of all shapes and sizes. Many of 
those found in cold countries, with their roots,, 
stems and branches, are not so large as the 
palm of a child's hand, while some of those in 
hot countries grow to a height of nearly three 
hundred feet. 

All trees lose their leaves at some time of 
the year. Most of our native trees shed them 
in autumn arid renew them in spring. But 
some of them, like the laurel and the ivy, keep 
their old leaves on until their new ones come, 
and are therefore green all the year round. 
These are called evergreens. When winter 
comes on the cold kills the small fibres on 


the roots of trees, which cannot then get 
enough moisture out of the earth to supply 
them with sap. The leaves therefore decay 
and fall off. But at the approach of spring 
the fibres grow again, and the trees are able 
to obtain as much sap as they require, and the 
new leaves grow. Trees obtain their food 
chiefly from me air, and the sap serves to con- 
vey the food formed by the leaves to every 
part of the tree. 

All trees spi'ing from a small germ found in 
the seed. When the seed is put into the 
ground the germ sprouts, and obtains its 
supply of food from the seed until it grows 
strong enough to form food for itself. I'he 
roots keep it firmly fixed in the ground, and 
as it cannot move about to seek its food, the 
air brings a supply to it. Trees have a body, 
limbs, and veins just as we have. They take 
in food through their leaves just as we take it 
into our stomachs, and the sap carries their 
food to every part of their bodies, j ust as our 
blood conveys the food through our veins to 
very part of ours. E. H. 

. COAL, 

val-ue hun-dred be-neath 

im-mense con-stant pil-lars 

sup-ply en-gines ex-plodes 

pos-sess ma-chines char-coal 

We can hardly speak too strongly of the 
value of coal, and we may safely say that 


without it the world would not be what it is 
at present. It forms an immense mass of 
heat and light, stored up ages and ages ago, 
ready for the time when the supply of woo(l 
shall have become small, and the demand 
for fuel very great. During the last five 
hundred years it has been the chief source of 
heat for the English people, and yet we still 
possess a supply for thoupands of years to 
come. And besides this great store of fuel at 
home, other countries have beds of coal hun- 
dreds of times as large as the whole of Eng- 
land. Only eighty years ago the most famous 
cities in the world had nothing better to light 
them by night than oil lamps; now the small- 
est towns are bright with gas. There is a con- 
stant demand for coal in every household, and 
without it engines, steamboats, and machines 
of all kinds would be useless. 

Coal is always found in the same beds in 
the earth, but of course these beds are not 
always at the same depth below the surface. 
A bed of coal is almost always laid slanting, 
so that sometimes one edge of it is at the top 
of the ground, while the other is found at a 
depth of hundreds of yards. The greatest 
depth yet reached in digging for coal is twelve 
hundred yards. When a bed of coal is to be 
worked, a deep hole, called a shaft is bored in 
the earth, until the coal is reached. The whole 
bed is then worked out, and the shaft is after- 
wards sunk deeper to reach the next bed. 


Five or six beds are often found beneath each 
other. When the shaft has been sunk deep 
enough, the miners are let down in an iron 
cage by an engine placed at the top of the pit. 
They then set to work to dig out the coal, 
bring it to the bottom of the shaft, and pile it 
up in waggons which the engine lifts to the 
top. When the bed of coal is thin, the miners 
dig out the rock which supports it, and allow 
the whole bed to a breadth of some yards to 
fall by its own weight. But when the bed is 
thick, they blow it up with gunpowder, leaving 
strong pillars of coal to support the roof above. 
As the workings get farther and farther from 
the shaft, roads are made and rails are laid 
down, and the coal is drawn to the shaft in 
wagons by horses. Every pit has to be sup- 
plied with fresh air, and almost every one 
requires an engine to be at work night and 
day pumping out the water which collects 
in it. 

Sea coal is dug in the north of England 
and in South Wales, and is so called because 
it is nearly all sent by sea to London and the 
other towns that can be reached by ships. It 
is very bright, is full of gas, and bums with 
a dark ash. Inland coal easily splits and burns 
mth a white ash. 

Gas is made by heating coal in closed iron 
vessels, and making the vapour pass through 
pipes to be made pure and to be stored at the 
ijas-house. Gas explodes when mixed with ten 












times its own weight of air. Coke is, the cin- 
ders formed from the coal in making gas. 
Charcoal is not coal at all, but wood burnt 
without a supply of air. E. H. 









All children who are old enough to go to 
school are old enough to have duties to do. 

* What, such little ones as we ? ' some of 
you may ask. 

Yegi, such little ones as you. 

'But what are duties?' may be the ques- 
tion of some of the youngest. 

Duties are those things you ought to do. 
You owe some duties to yourselves, others to 
your fitthers. and mothers, others to your 
brothers and sisters, others ^to your teachers 
and school-fellows, others to God; and you 
cannot do your duty to Him unless you do 
your duty to them, for this is a great part of 
what He requires .of you. 

Now, listen whilst I tell you some of the 
duties which- you owe in school. 

First then, as you all know, you are sent to 


school to learn what will be useful to you now 
as children, and in after years as men and 

You must therefore do all you can to learn 
these things. Attend to your teacher, so that 
you may bear in mind what is taught. For 
your nunds are not quite like boxes. Your 
teacher may put in a box what he pleases, but 
he cannot put learning into your minds, un- 
less you open them to receive it, and you 
must keep it safe when once you have got it. 
This is a part of your duty to your teacher, 
who takes pains to instruct you, to your 
parents who send you to school to learn, 
and to your class-fellows who will be kept 
back in their learning if you are careless and 
waste your teacher's time by wanting to be 
told the same thing over and over again. 

Then you must always be in good time at 
school, for when you are late, you lose your own 
lessons, disturb the order of the school, and 
get into a very bad habit. 

Of course you should never be absent from 
school without good cause, for when you are 
away you lose the teaching given in your 
class. If this occurs often, your teacher will 
have either to put you into a lower class, or 
keep in it a child who is too backward for it. 
This hinders the progress of the others, and 
is clearly unfair to them. 

I am sure I hardly need tell you that you 
should clean and neat. Although 

boys' first standard. 45 

you may neither ha\ e nor want fine clothes, 
you should try to keep tidy those which your 
parents provide for you, and it is not nice 
ibr either your teacher or your class-fellows 
to have to sit near dirty children. 

You must obey your teacher at once when 
you are told to do or not to do a thing. This 
is^ in fact, the first duty you have to do in 
school, and if you do this well, all the rest will 

Bear in mind that what your teacher tells 
you is for your good, though you may think 
it very hard that he will not let you talk a 
little to the boy who sits near you, or go out 
of your place just for one minute, or play with 
your fingers, or eat fi'uit or sweets, or do any 
other little thing of the sort. These may not 
be wrong at home or in your playground, but 
they are very wrong in school, because they 
prevent the lessons from going on well, and 
rob yourself as well as others. Would you 
ever become wise or clever, think you, if you 
\Yent to a school where the children were 
allowed to talk, play, run about, eat, or be 
idle when lessons are going on? I am sure 
none of you would really like such a school. 
And what would your parents think of it ? 

E. T. S. 



cat-tie gal-Ions 


mead-ows stom^ach 


for-eig'ii liq-uid 


im-mense swal-lows 


thous-ands comb 


The cow, both alive and dead, 

. is one of the 

chief sources of our supply of food. When 
she is living she gives us mUk, cream, butter, 
and cheese ; and after she has been killed, her 
flesh is eaten, and is called beef. Her skin is 
tanned and made into leather, and her horns, 
bones, and hoofs are used for making cups, 
combs, glue, and other useful things. 

The chief kinds bred in this country are the 
famous shorthorns, the Sussex, the Devon, 
the Scotch, and the Welsh cattle. Whole 
herds of red and black cattle may' be seen 
feeding in the meadows of Sussex^ and Devon ; 
and thousands of oxen are every yeai* bred in 
Scotland, and sent over to- Ireland to graze. 
Immense herds of beasts are also sent to Eng- 
land from foreign countries in swift stedmers. 
Although the voyage is not very long^ they 
are said to suffer very much from thirst and 
fiickiiess. . . 

Both in town and country cows are kept in 
immense numbers solely for the sake of their 
milk. In London, and other large towns, they 
are kept and fed in stables, and a cow-keeper 
often has as many as from one hundred to two 
hundred cows. After they have had a calf, 


they require to be milked twice a day, morn- 
ing and evening. Milk is used very much in 
many kinds of food. When cream is wanted 
the milk is. put into wide shallow dishes in a 
cool place, and, in a few hours, all the oily 
beads rise to the top in the form of cream, 
which can be taken off by itself. What is left 
behind is skimmed milk. 

When butter is to be made the cream is 
put by until there are some gallons of it. 
Then it is put into a churn, and the handle 
being turned, the cream is beaten by the flaps 
of the chum until lumps of butter are formed. 
In warm weather, the butter is sometimes 
formed in half an hour ; but in winter, the 
chum has to be turned for several hours. The 
butter is taken out of the chum and well 
beaten, to get all the drops of milk out of it. 
Then it is salted a little, and made up into 
pate of fresh butter, or mixed with more salt, 
and put into tubs as salt butter. The liquid 
left in the chum is butter-milk. Much of the 
butter sold in the shops comes from Dorset. 
Dutch butter comes from Holland. 

When cheese is to be made, some rennet 
from the stomach of a calf is put into the milk, 
and this causes it to form into curds, leaving 
behind the liquid called whey. The curds are 
taken out, pressed into moulds, and treated 
in other ways with great care, to make good 
cheese, 'the best English cheeses are Cheshire 
and Stilton; but some very good cheese now 
comes from foreign countries. 


When the cow is feeding in the meadows 
she bites off the grass and swallows it ivith 
very little chewing. After she has filled her 
first and second stomachs, she leaves off feed- 
ing, and the food is brought back to her 
mouth, and is well chewed ; she then swallows 
it again into her third stomach, and thence it 
passes into her fourth and last. This is called 
chewing the cud, and I dare say you have 
often seen her doing it* when she is lying 
down in the field. Sheep, goats, deer, and 
some other animals, also chew the cud. The 
balls of hair found in her stomach are formed 
of the hair which she licks off herself or her 
calf and swallows. E. H. 

















The sky-lark's nest among the grass 
And waving com is found ; 

The robin's on a shady bank. 
With oak leaves strewn around. 

The wren builds in an ivied thorn, 

Or old and ruin'd wall ; 
The mossy nest so covered in, 

You scarce can see at all. 

boys' first standard, 49 

The martins build their nests of clay 

In rows beneath the eaves ; 
The chaffinch builds with moss and hair^ 

And not a crevice leaves. 

The cu6koo makes no nest at ^11; 

But through the wood sbe Strays, 
Until she finds one snug and warm, 

And there her eggs she lays. 

The sparrow has a nest of hay, 

With feathers warmly lined ; 
The ringdove's careless nest of sticks 

On lofty trees we find. 

Rooks build together in a wood, 

At the summit of a tree ; 
The owl will build inside a barn. 

Or where it cannot see. 

The blackbird's nest of grass and mud 

In bush and bank is found ; 
The lapwing's darHy spotted eggs 

Are laid upon the ground. 

The magpie's nest is made with thorns 

In leafless tree or hedge ; 
The wild-duck and the water-hen 

Build by the water's edge. 

Birds build their nests from year to year 

According to their kind ; 
Beauty marks some, and neatness some, * 

And simpler ones we find, • 

I. 2. G 


The habits of eafch little bird^ 
And all its wondrous skill, 

Are surely taught by God Himself^ 
And guided by Bus will. 
























Cheese is made from milk by the farmers 
in many parts of England, and also in other 
countries. It seems strange that such solid 
hard food can be made from milk, but of 
course there is a great deal to be done to it 
before it becomes cheese. 

The first thing is to turn the milk into 
curds and whey ; this is done by putting 
mto it a liquor called rennet. Kennet is 
got from the stomach of the calf, by steep- 
ing it, with sweet herbs and spices, in hot 
water. It is sour, and changes the milk, if 
fresh, at once. If the milk is not fresh from 
the cow, it will require warming before it will 
change. The whey is strained off, and the 
curds are broken up into small pieces, and 
put into a cheese vat. The vat is a box, 
*ther round pr square, with holes near the 

• 1 t • 

boys' first standard. 51 

bottom ; it is the exact size and shape that 
the cheese is to be made. The curds are piled 
up above the top of the vat, so that, when the 
lid is pressed on tight, some of the whey that 
is still mixed with the curds may be pressed 
out at the holes. It is then put under a 
cheese-press, or heavy weight, which squeezes 
all the whey from it. Great care must be 
taken to get it quite dry, or the cheese will be 
spoiled. It is taken out of the press to be 
salted and turned, and is put back again, and 
left there for half a day. The cheese must 
then be put on a shelf for a long time, to get 
dry and firm, and should be turned over 
every day. 

There are many sorts of cheese, which are 
known by the names of the places or counties 
where they are chiefly made, or where they 
were made first. Stilton and Cheshire cheeses 
are rich; those made in Suffolk and the north 
of England are poor. The better sorts of 
cheese are made fi-om new milk ; other kinds, 
not quite so good, are made of milk after some 
of the cream has been taken off. The poorest 
sort is made of skimmed milk, that is, milk 
from which all the cream has been taken to 
make butter. Those farmers who make the 
best cheese do not supply any butter; and 
those who make butter do not produce good 
cheese. The richest kind of cheese is that 
called Stilton cheese, which is made of new 
milk, to which cream has been added. It is 



kept in the drjdng room two years, to improve 
its taste. Cream cheeses are made like the 
Stilton cheese, but they are eaten while new. 
Some of the best kinds of cheese, besides 
those already spoken of, are Cheddar cheese, 
Cheshire cheese, and Derby cheese. 

In some countries, cheese is made from the 
milk given by the goat, the sheep, and the 
reindeer. D. W. 












Cam -bridge 










Butter is made of the richest part of milk, 
which is called cream. It is a wholesome and 
pleasant food when fresh and sweet; but 
when old or badly made, it is not only bad 
to the taste, but also hurtful to the health. 

To make butter from milk there are three 
things to be done : — ^first the skimming, next 
the churning, and thirdly the making up. 

When the milk is brought in fresh from the 
cows, it is strained to get out any dirt or hairs 
that may have fallen into it. It is then poured 
into large shallow pans, with a little hot water. 
This is done to make the cream rise to the 

boys' first standard. 53 

top. These pans are kept in a very cool 
room, called a dairy, and kept quite still for 
twelve hours or more, till the cream floats on 
the top ; it is then taken off. This is called 

The cream is put into a pan, and stirred, or 
changed about, once a day, till the time when 
it is to be made into butter. When there is 
enough cream for the purpose, it is put into a 
churn, which is a vessel like a barrel. By 
turning the churn round many times, the 
cream is nearly all changed into butter in 
about half an hour. When the churn is opened 
the butter is found in lumps, sometimes the 
8ize of marbles, sometimes much larger. 

The cream is not all changed into butter ; 
the thin part of it which remains liquid is called 
buttermil^. This is drained off and given to 
pigs. The butter is then taken out, and 
washed in clean water, three or four times, to 
free it from any buttermilk that may be left in 
it. A little salt is now added, and worked 
well into the butter with the hand. It is then 
made up into pats, pounds, or half-pounds for 
sale ; this is called fresh butter. Salt butter 
is made by mixing more salt with it. This 
kind is packed in tubs, and will keep good a 
longer time than fresh butter. 

When cows are fed on fresh grass, good 
hay, and other sweet food, they give rich milk, 
from which first-rate butter can be made. If 
they eat bad food, such as May-weed, the 


butter made from their milk has a bad taste. 
Ill winter, when grass is scarce, cows are 
fed with turnips and hay. The butter made 
then is almost white, and to make it look 
yellow, as in summer, juice squeezed from 
carrots is sometimes put into the churn with 
the cream. Though this juice gives a deep 
<x)lour, it does not at all injure the butter. 

The counties of England most noted for 
good butter are Cambridge, Dorset, Essex, 
Suffolk, and York. l\ W. 







might -y 

Why do we call the lion the King of Beasts ? 
Is it because he is the largest or the strongest 
creature that walks the earth? No, it is 
not. for the elephant is larger, and the tiger 
equals him in strength. But still he is very 
large and strong, and able to destroy beasts of 
greater size than himself. Then his immense 
head, his fiery eye and long shaggy mane give 
him a very fierce look, and the sound of his 
voice is so startling that it is no wonder that 
other animals quail before him. Fearing no 

boys' IJIRST SyANBARD. 55 

rival, he roams the forest at will, truly and 
indeed a king among the beasts. 

The lion is said to be both noble and brave, 
but without doubt he has the deep cunning of 
all the cat tribe to which he belongs, and pre- 
fers hiding himself and coming on his prey by 
stealth rather than meeting it in open fight. 
Only when he is hungry does he walk abroad 
in the day-time, as he loves to sleep away the 
hot summer noon in some shady grove or 
thicket. It is at evening that he sallies forth 
in quest of water and food, and woe to the 
poor harmless beast, be it deer or goat, zebra 
or giraffe, ox, or sheep or horse that chances to 
come near him. Crouching behind a rock or 
bush, or nearly hidden in the tall grass, just 
by the path of the creature as it wends its way 
to the river side to drink, the lion awaits its 
approach. If we could watch him, we should 
see him at first creeping along with his head 
nearly close to the ground, his eyes glaring as 
if they would pierce the gloom, and his ears 
now erect and now thrown back, listening to 
the sound of the distant footfalls. As they 
come nearer, he stops and gathers himself up 
for the fatal spring ; his head is somewhat 
raised now, and his tail mpves sloiyly to and 
fro. The victim is in sight, soon it will be 
close enough, within some ten or twenty yards, 
for the lion to spriiig upon it, and then with a 
dreadful roar and a mighty bound he throws 


himself upon his prey. If it be a small 
animal, the struggle is but a short one ; the 
lion's claws are in its body, and his teeth 
are at its throat. The life blood soon ebbs 
away, and king lion either lies down then and 
there and feasts upon the carcase, or carries 
it off to his den to feed the lioness and her 
cubs. As the lion will kill and carry off both 
sheep and oxen, and even men and women, he 
is hunted away from the abodes of men. The 
natives of Afirica, when they find a lion and 
lioness have taken up their quarters near their 
homes, go out in parties armed with spears, 
and bows and arrows, and sometimes with 
muskets, to attack them. They have need of 
great care and skill, as the lions when roused 
will spring upon the hunters, and often cause 
the death of one or more of them. 

Lions are brought to this country, and kept 
in shows for people to look at. In former 
times, among the Romans and some other 
nations, they were kept in dens to eat people 
who were thrown to them for having done 
what was against their country's laws. 


stu-pid hon-ey watch-ed 

weath-er gath-er heath-er 

mis-tress flow-er-y fol-low-ed 

e-ven-ing glar-ing might-y 

wretch craz-ed rais-ed 

boys' first standakd. 57 

No, no, no, no, I would not do, 

For either love or money. 
What siHy little WiUie did. 

All for the sake of honey. 

Wee Willie watched a busy bee, 

All in the sunny weather. 
Fly to and fro and gather sweets. 

Amid the purple heather. 

' rU see the end of this,' said he, 
This foolish Kttle Willie ; 

* I'll follow you, wee Mistress Bee, ' 

So do not think me silly/ 

Then down the stream, and through the 
And o'er the flowery lea, [lane, 

Followed our fat wee Willie 
After small Mistress Bee. 

Small Mistress Bee at evening came 

Home to her hive of rest, 
Just as the red and glaring sun 

Was sinking in the west. 

* I've found you out at last,' cried Willie, 

* And all your mighty swarm ! 
So just look out, small Mistress Bee, 
I mean to do you harm. 

* I do not think my feasts of honey 

Should be so small and few. 
That a big hive like this may feed 
A little thing like you ! ' 


So Willie rushed upon the hive — 
The bees a^U thought him crazed, 

They stung him here, and stung him 
And what a roar he raised ! [there, 

Then off he ran with might and main, 
With many a shriek and cry ; 

He'll never touch a hive again, 
You know the reason why. 

No, no, no, no, I would not do 

For either love or money, 
What foolish little Willie did, 

All for the sake of honey. 

R. L. H. 


an-swer ques-tion steal-ing 

cheat-ing de-ceive con-ceal 

teach-ers a-sham-ed dis-grace 

pun-ish-ed up-right stead-y 

re-sist-ing tempt-a-tion re-col-lect 

We are all very ready to agree that honesty 
is the best policy, but are we all as honest as 
we are so willing to say we ought to be ? Be- 
fore we can answer this question we must 
know what we mean by the word ' honesty.' 
What then is honesty? You will very likely 
tell me that it means not stealing or cheating. 
Well, you are partly right, and yet there are very 
many dishonest people in the world who would 
never dream of stealing anything or giving you 
the wrong change for your money. You do 

boys' first standard. 59 

not quite see how that can be, do you? I will 
tell you. If you steal apples out of a garden, 
you rob the owner of his fruit. Just so when 
you deceive any one, and lead him to believe 
what is false, you rob him of the truth. So 
you see that to deceive is a kind of robbery, 
Hnd therefore dishonest. Have you anything 
you wish to conceal from your parents or 
teachers^ or do you ever do what you would 
be ashamed for them to see? If so, be 
sure there is something about you not quite 
honest. It is far better to confess what we 
have done wrong, and bear the trouble and 
disgrace, than by hiding our faults to deceive 
those around us, and let them fancy us better 
than we really are. We can only gain the 
trust and love of those about us, by being 
perfectly open and truthful in all our words 
and actions ; and although honest, upright con- 
duct may sometimes bring us into trouble, as 
for instance when we have to be punished for 
some wrong action we have confessed, yet in 
the long run it is certain to pav best, even 
from a worldly point of view. When you go 
out into life, you will find that it is not only the 
clever people that do well, but the steady, 
honest ones. The first question asked when 
a boy or girl tries for a place, whether it be 
in a shop or office, or on a farm or out at ser- 
vice, is not whether he is clever and sharp, 
but whether he is honest and truthful — in a 
word, w:hether he can be trusted^ Many a 


man has owed his success in after life to re- 
sisting a temptation to be dishonest when he 
was young. Had he given way to it, he would 
most likely have gone on from bad to worse, 
have lost his trust in himself, as well as the 
trust of others ; and that trust gone, very little 
hope remains for a man of doing well. Kecol- 
lect that the way to be honest is to stand 
firmlv against the very first wish to deceive 
or take what is not your own. The thing 
may be very Uttle and very slight in itself, 
but it will surely lead to worse, till the bad 
habit grows too strong for you to conquer. 

£. B. H. 

chief-ly can-dies weth-er 

mut-ton shep-herd weath-er 

pas-ture Leices-ter quar-rel 

tal-low mid-die awk-ward 

Sheep are kept in England chiefly for the 
sake of the mutton which they produce. But 
in some foreign countries where there is a great 
extent of pasture land, thousands of sheep are 
kept for their wool, their skins, and their tal- 
low. Their wool is dyed, and used to make 
woollen cloth, their skins are dressed and made 
into parchment, and from their fat tallow can- 
dles are made. 

The most famous breed of sheep in this 
country are the South-downs^ so called because 

boys' first standard. 61 

they are bred and fed upon the short thick 
grass which grows on the chalky hills or downs 
in the south of England. They have very 
thick short wool, short round bodies, black 
legs and black faces. The mutton which is 
got from them is the finest in the world. They 
are fit to kill when they are two years old ; 
but the primest mutton is that of. a four year 
old wether. The shepherd and his dog drive 
them to the hills in the morning and fetch 
them home in the evening, and they are looked 
after throughout the day by boys. In the 
winter they are fed on turnips and h&y. 

The Leicester sheep also give very good mut- 
ton. They are kept in the middle of England, 
and grow to a great size. A sheep of this 
breed grows to twice the size of the South- 
down, and pelds a great deal of long white 
wool. A cross between these two famous 
breeds of sheep takes the good points of both 
and gives some of the best mutton sent to 
market. Some thousands of sheep are killed 
every day in the year to supply London 

The Welsh sheep run almost wild and in 
very large flocks upon the mountains of Wales. 
They are very active, and may often be seen 
leaping stone walls five or six feet high. 
When kept at home for a time and fattened 
they give very good mutton in small joints^ 
which is highly prized for its rich flavour. 
Irish and Scotcn sheep are sent to the London 


market in immense numbers, but their meat 
is not so good as that of the English breeds. 

Lambs are born during the first three 
months of the year, and even in the coldest 
weather they may be seen skipping about the 
turnip fields and bleating after their mothers. 
Sheep are fed on grass and turnips, and they 
are so fond of clover, that they sometimes kill 
themselves by eating too much of it. 

About April, when the warm weather is 
coming on, sheep are shorn of their wool. 
They are taken to a stream of clear water, 
and well washed. A man then takes a large 
pair of shears, and neatly clips off^ all their 
wool close to the skin. The sheep are quite 
harmless, and submit without ever trying to. 
bite, though they sometimes try to get away. 
When they quarrel amongst themselves they 
will give each other blows with their heads 
which can be heard many yards away. They 
go back some distance with their faces towards 
each other, and then rush forward with all 
their force, and dash their heads together in a 
frightful manner. He gets the best of the 
battle who can manage to give the other the 
hardest and most awkward blow. 

In some coimtries the sheep have such large, 
fat tails, that they cannot well carry them ; so 
their masters make little carts, which they tie 
behind the sheep, that they may give their 
tails a ride. E. H. 

boys' first standard. 63 


clothes wear-ing atock-ings 

neigh-bours gar-ment& flan-nel 

rib-bons wov-en jack-et 

gloss-y * waist-coat shear-ing 

pret-ty trous-ers fleece 

^Old clothes! old clo! old clo! Who 
wants to buy any old clothes ? ' ' Who wants 
to buy old clothes ! Well, I am sure ! I have 
often seen a man with a large bag buying up 
old clothes of the neighbours round about, but 
we rarely have old clothes ofiered us for sale.' 
So said Miss Prim, as she looked once more at 
her new hat and bright ribbons, at her velvet 
mantle, and silk dress, all new, brand new, from 
the shop over the way. * I wonder who buys 
old clothes ! No old clothes for me, if I can 
help it ! ' * And so say 1/ chimed in little Bob 
Smart, the draper's boy ; ' bright glossy cloth is 
the thing I like to wear,' and he looked quite 
pleased as he held up a new black coat just 
sent in from Mr. Snip, the tailor^s. Not so fast, 
not so fast, my good lad ; nor must you, my 
pretty lady, be quite so certain that you are 
not wearing some one's old clothes. I have 
heard that Master Smart's superfine coat was 
worn long ago by a gentleman with four legs, 
one Mr. Sheep by name, and that some old 
fat fellows, with I don't know how many legs, 
used to sleep in missy's fine blue silk. It is 


true, neither the dress nor the coat look the same 
as when their first owners wore them, as the 
old garments were picked to pieces and spun 
into threads, which were then dyed and woven 
into cloth. Perhaps it is as well for Bob that 
it is so. How he would stare if some old 
sheep were to run after him and call out, ' Bah! 
bah! bah! Bob! Bob! Bob! What are you 
doing with my old coat? ' In truth, we may all 
well look and feel somewhat sheepish, when 
we reflect that we have got not our coats only, 
but often also our trousers, and waistcoats, 
and stockings, our flannel jackets, our blankets, 
our carpets, a^d many other articles of clothing 
or for use, by robbing one of our best friends. 
What seems worse in this matter is that no 
one seems at all ashamed of the theft. The 
farmer who owns the sheep fleeces him again 
and again as May comes round, without so 
much as saying, 'I beg your pardon, Mr. 
Fourlegs,' or * Will you kindly allow me 
to ease you of your great coat?' His men 
first of all duck him in the pond or stream to 
wash him clean, and then take him off to a 
bam, where they hold him down while a man 
cuts off the fleece with a large pair of shears. 
But though the sheep gives a good kick every 
now and then, and looks very angry when he 
is let loose, yet he seems to bear no malice, 
and is so kind as to grow anotiier woolly coat 
in time for next year's shearing. 

As the sheep is so usefiil to us we should 

boys' first standard. 65 

treat him kindly; and when we think of the 
way in which new clothes are obtained, we 
shall not pride ourselves on fine dress, if we 
remember that it is, after all, second hand. 

E. H. 


fetch hand-ker-chief build-ings 

cot-ton chintz ques-tions 

dra-per's cal-i-co chief-ly 

pin-a-fore spin-ning floss-y 

trou-sers weav-ing sub-stance 

* Willy, please to fetch me a ball of cotton 
from my work-box.' 

* Yes, mother,' said Willy ; and away he ran 
and soon came back with the cotton in his 

'Who gave you that nice ball of cotton, 

* No one gave it me, Willy ; I bought it at 
the draper's shop.' 

* Is that where you got Susy's new frock 
from?' * 

* Yes.' 

* And did you buy that too? ' 

' Yes, WiUy, I bought Susy a frock there, 
besides some calico for shirts for little Tom 
and you.' 

' Is my shirt mfade of cotton? Oh, I see, 

I. B. F 


there seem to be threads in it like the one 
yoti are working with/ 

* Not only your shirt is made of cotton, but 
your socks and pinafores, and Su^'s frock, and 
a great many things that we wear or make use 
of in other ways. Just take this ball of 
cotton in your hand and go round the room, 
and see if you can find out how many things 
there are in it which are made of cotton/ 

Willy took the ball, and pulling a thread out 
a little way laid it first on the table-doth, and 
then on the carpet; now on the window4)lin<i, 
and then on the sofa-cover. Next he tried it 
with a piece of a dress his mother was making, 
and then he laid it on his handkerchief, his 
coat sleeve, and trousers. He was not sure, 
but he thought the handkerchief, and the dress, 
and the window-blind were made of cotton. 
His mother told him he was right so far,^ and 
that the chintz, sofa-cover was cotton. aJso, but 
that the other things he had looked into were 
chiefly made of wooL Now Willy knew very 
well that wool grew on the sheep's backs, 
but he did not know how it could be made 
into cloth or aarpets; nor could he make 
out what cotton was, or in what way it was 
turned into calico for shirts and prints for 

. So he said, ' How is wool made into 
cloth, mother? Where does cotton come 
from? What is cotton? And how is it 
made up ? ' 

boys' *irst stand akd. 67 

* One questibn at a time, if you please, master 
Willy, and then I will try to answer you. 
Which shall we take first ? ' 

' Where does cotton come from ? ' 

' You know I buy cotton frocks at the 
draper's. The draper buys his cotton goods 
of persons who have bought them of the 
makers. Those who make the cotton goods 
employ many hundreds of men, women, and 
children in large buildings called cotton mills. 
In cotton mills the raw cotton which comes 
from abroad is spun into threads or yarn, and 
woven into cloth.' 

' What is faw cotton, and what do you mean 
by spinning and weaving? I can't think how 
it is done,' said Willy. 

' Three questions again,' said his mother ; 
* and again I must beg of you for the present 
to be content with an answer to one of them, 
What is raw cotton ? * 

' Raw cotton is the name given to it just as 
it comes to us from the hot countries where the 
cotton plant grows. For I must tell you that 
cotton grows in the seed pod of a shrub about 
as large as a good-Sized rose treje. It is a soft, 
white, flossy substance wrapped around the 
cotton 86eds. When the pods are ripe they 
burst open, and then men and women gather 
them, and after parting the seeds fi^om the 
white woolly fibre, pqick it in bales, and send 
it to us to make into yam and cloth, and many 
other useful articles.' 

F 2 


* Thank you, mother, I think I know some- 
thing about cotton now, and hope another 
time you will tell me about wool, and silk, and 
linen.' H. C. 







re-sist • 







Paper has not always been in use in Eng- 
land. Hundreds of years ago all books were 
made of parchment or sheep's skin, ^nd many 
of them still exist, But books made of parch- 
ment were very dear, so, when people wished 
to read a great number of books, there was a 
demand for something cheaper to print and 
write upon. Then some one found out how 
to make paper from rags, and very clever it 
was to turn dirty rags into smooth, white, 
glossy paper. 

People at the shops collect rags, and sell 
them to the rqg merchant ; and he sells them 
again to the paper maker. But more rags 
are wanted in England to supply all the books, 
papers, and other things, than can be had, and 
so hundreds of tons are brought every year 
from foi*eign countries. When a great many 
have been taken ]to the mill, the paper-maker 
first sets a machine to work upon them to 
beat and whirl them about, to get all the 

boys' first standard. go 

dust out of them. I'his partly cleanses 
therri, but therfe is still a great deal of dirt 
in them that cannot be got out in this 
manner, so they are then handed over to 
a second machine to be cleaned, and, at 
the same time, to be mashed up into pulp. 
They are all put into a long trough filled with 
knives stuck into the bottom and sides, and in 
the trough an axle, also filled with knives, 
turns round and round. The two sets of 
blades between them cut the rags over and 
over again, until they are all torn up very 
small indeed, and this is the pulp from which 
paper is made. While the cutting is going 
on, a stream of clean water runs in at one 
end of the trough and out at the other, and 
carries off all the dirt. The pulp is then 
put into a cistern, and if the paper is to be 
tinted, the colour is put in now. 

To make the sheets of paper, a wire fi-ame 
edged with wood, of the same size as the sheet, 
is taken and dipped quite flat into the pulp, 
and a thin layer is lifted out, while the water 
runs off through the wires. This is taken out 
at once, and placed on a sheet of soft felt. A 
second piece of felt is placed on the top of 
this, and then a second sheet of paper on that, 
and so on, until a pile of forty or fifty has 
been formed. These are then all put into a 
press and squeezed very hard until they are 
nearly dry, and quite thin and flat. The 
sheets are then hung upon lines for seven, or 


eight days, axul all little pieces of dajrk pulp 
dnd such things are picked off. When this 
has been done, the paper is just the same as 
blotting-paper. . To make it fit to write or 
print on, it is glazed with size. Thm it is 
put into quires or half-quires, folded, pressed 
down tight, and trimmed with ^ very large 
sharp kmfe, to make the edges straight and 
square. But most of the paper now used is 
madq much more quickly and more cheaply by 
a machine. 

During the last few years many other 
things besides paper have been made from 
pulp: trays, tables, writing-desks, and even 
hats. They are very light, hard, take a fine 
polish, and resist water. The large London 
daily papers require so much to print upon 
that a mill is kept working all the year round 
to supply each office. Other things, such as 
straw and wood, have been tried, but the paper 
made from them is not so good as that made 
from rags. E. H. 


mount-ains rough cov-er-ed 

bright-ly splash for-ests 

bus-y fierce an-i-mals 

clouds des-ert Eng-lapd 

The high mountains rise up into the clouds. 
You could hardly climb up to the top, the 
way is so long and so rough. 


Men do sometimes go up to the very top, 
but they are in great danger. They have to 
creep along very narrow paths, and are very 
likely to tumble and dash themselves to pieces 
on the rocks. 

But when they do get to the top, they see 
the country for very many miles, and it is a 
very grand sight. 

The tops of the highest mountains are always 
covered with ice and snow, for it is very cold 
high up in the air. And when the sun shines 
brightly, the ice and snow look red and pink 
like a rose, and form a very pretty sight. 

Many streams run down the mountain 
sides. They splash, and dash, and roar as they 
tumble over the rocks. 

There are great forests on the mountains^ 
where tall pine trees grow. Men are busy at 
work there cutting down the trees, and saw- 
ing them into planks for our use. Hunters 
go there as well, for fierce wild beasts — like 
the bear and wolf — ^live in the forests. 

Men often find gold and silver, and copper 
and iron, in the sides of the mountains j and 
then great mines are dug to get them out. 

There are some lands which are almost full 
of mountains. There you might stand and 
see before you and behind, and on each side 
of you, taU mountains reaching up to the 
clouds, and every one of them with his white 
cap of snow on. But there are some other 
lands without one mountain, or even a hill. 


The ground is quite flat, and often no rivers 
run through the land, for the high mountains 
attract the clouds and the rain, so that where 
there are plenty of mountains, there must be 
plenty of streams. 

Lands which have no mountains or rivers 
are never rich, for no trees or grass will grow 
there, and so men cannot live in them. 

If such a land is hot, the ground is all burnt 
up into sand, and it is called a desert. 

In our little England we . have not any very 
high mountains, but we have a good many 
little ones, and we have plenty of rivers. 

So our land is a very rich one, and we may 
safely call it the best little land in the world. 

R. McW. 


glo-ri-ous stain-less be-neath 

crick-et for-give pu-ny 

twen-ty Christ-mas ven-ture 

cat- tie cow-er-ing a-gainst 

Patter, patter, falls the rain 

On the leaves so green and bright, 
Down on the rose's glorious red, 

And the lily's stainless white. 
! I love to see it dashing 

Ofi^ the roofs so clear and blue, 
And beneath the mighty oak tree 

To hear it dripping through. 


And although there is no football, 

Nor joyous out-door play, 
.Yet I forgive the plashing 

Of this dark and rainy day. 

How all the roses love it ! 

They seem sweeter far than ever; 
And 0, how mighty in its course 

Onward rolls the river ! 
'Twas so puny I could wade it 

Just twenty hours ago ; 
But I would not venture now 

To cross its rapid flow, 
To be head of all the classes 

From Christmas on to May, 
For well I know 'twould cost my life 

Upon this rainy day. 

The cattle all are cowering 

Beneath the elm- trees' shade ; 
The grape-vine trained against the wall 

Low with the ground is laid. 
And streams are running muddy 

Down past the school-room door. 
Where streams through all the summer 

Were never seen before. 
A little lake the school-green is^ 

Where we are wont to play, 
Yet ! I love the plashing 

Of this dark and rainy day. 

K. L. Htf 



bub-bles mer-ri-ly vil-la-ges 

back-ward for-ward swift-ly 

flash-es shad-y pleas-ant 

qui-et-ly barg-es chang-ed 

A river is but a tiny stream at first; you 
could stop it with your foot, it is so little. It 
bubbles up in a spring in the side of a hill, 
and runs down merrily through the grass, 
and over the stones. It seems to sing a song, 
it is so glad ; and it makes the wild flowers 
which grow by it glad too. 

It runs through villages, and people come 
and draw jfresh clear water irom it. But 
it soon grows larger, for other streams ran 
into it ; and pretty little fish live in it and 
play among the stones. They dart backward 
and forward so swiftly, that they look like 
flashes of light. 

So, on it runs through green fields, and the 
cows come and drink out of it; and trees grow 
over it and make it shady, and very pleasant 
to bathe in. But when it gets to be big and 
strong it will .turn water-wheels, and grind 
corn for men, and do many other things for 

And when the stream grows deep and wide 
it is called a river. It runs on very quietly 
now and sings no more songs, for it is no longer 
a little thing. But men sail on it in boats, 

boys' ferst standard. 75 

and catch fish, and carry coal and many other 
things on it in barges^ 

Large towns are built by the side of it, 
and great ships sail on it, and bring us tea and 
coflfee, and all kinds of good things from all 
parts of the world. 

So the river runs on, getting wider and 
deeper, till it reaches the deep, deep sea, and 
there it seems lost at last. 

But it is not lost after all. Every little 
drop of water in the river came out of the 
sea at first. The sun drew up the littie drops 
out of the sea, and they changed into clouds 
and then into rain, and fell upon the hills, and 
the fields, and so ran back again to the sea. 

In some lands the streams run down veiy 
steep hills and mountains, and then they dash 
and roar and make a noise like thunder. No 
boats can go on streams like these, but they 
will work mills very well, and so saw timber, 
and do other very useful things. 

The river never stops. The little stream, 
whiich you can step over, ran on just the same 
when your father was a boy, and it will chat- 
ter over the stones when all of us are laid in 
the grave. 

Where a river first begins is called its source^ 
and where it ends its mouth The banks of a 
river are its sides, and its bed is the hollow in 
which it flows. A river which runs into 
another is called a tributary. There's a hard 
word for you ! E. MgW. 


















' trans-pa-rent 






Glass is a most useful substance of great 
beauty. It is so hard that very few things 
will cut it, or even scratch it. Glass can be 
made so smooth and bright that nothing else is 
able to take so high a polish. Its chief value 
depends upon its being transparent, which 
means that it can be seen through. The best 
glass is so transparent, that it does not at all 
hide from our sight any object on the other 
side of it. Glass is also brittle, that is, it may 
be broken with a slight blow. 

Of all the things made by the art of man, 

ferhaps not one is put to more uses than glass, 
ts chief use is for making windows for our 
houses. It lets in light and warmth, while 
it shuts out wind and rain. Many years ago 
window panes were made of glass, but the 
sort used then was not at all clear. People 
did not know how to make any better glass 
than the common thick green sort ; but they 
sometimes made it blue, yellow, or black for 
other uses. When men began to make better 

boys' first standard. 77 

glass it was very costly, and none but the 
richest people could afford to buy it for their 
windows. But now it is both cheap and 
good, and we owe much of our comfort to 
its use. 

Other things are made of glass, such as 
tumblers, wine-glasses, plates, dishes, and salt 
cellars, for use on the table. It is used to 
make ink-stands; and pictures in frames 
are covered with sheets of it. Then we 
have also looking-glasses, glasses for clocks 
and watches, bottles, buttons, beads, and 
chimneys and globes for lamps. Another 
great use of glass is to assist our sight ; made 
in a certain shape it helps people with bad 
sight to see clearly, and those with good sight 
to see things at a great distance, and also 
many which are too small to be seen with the 
naked eye. 

Glass is made of flint stones, ground to 
powder, or sand, mixed with soda or potash, 
and one or two other things. To make the 
best glass, soda and fine white sand are used. 
They are put into a furnace to melt, till they 
become what is called frit. After keeping the 
frit some time, it is put into a second furnace 
to melt again, in order to clear it, which takes 
about two days. The glass-makers then take 
some of the melted ^ass on the end of a long 
hollow rod of iron. With this rod or tube they 
can form the glass, while hot, into almost any 
shape they please, by twisting and rolling it 



things made of metal. Mixed with glue and 
water, it makes whitewash for ceiliiigs and 
walls. Mixed with linseed oil, and well 
worked and beaten, it makes putty, which is 
much used by painters and glaziers. 

The soft moist kind of chalk, whether it is 
burnt into lime or not, makes a good manure 
for some kinds of soil. D. W. 


smooth silk-worm ti-ny 

piece spiu'Uer sleep-y 

touch co-coon pret-ty 

thread rib-bon re-al-ly 

moth cloth-ing sur-round 

If you take a piece of silk in your hand and 
feel it, you will find it smooth and soft to the 
touch. Now, look well into it, and you will 
see how very fine the threads are of which it 
is made, and how many there are in a small 
piece. You have perhaps a piece of black 
silk, or it may be that it is red, or blue, or 
pink, or green. These colours are given it 
by dyeing. 

Do you know where the very fine yellow 
silk comes from? Does it grow in the pod of 
a plant like cotton, or on the back of a crea- 
ture like the sheep? No, it does not grow in 
either of these ways, but it is made, and in 

boys' first standard. 81 

a way that one would not guess if he tried all 
day. You would hardly think that a moth, 
and an egg not so large as a pin's head, and a 
sort of worm with many legs, and a shapeless 
queer-looking thing rolled up in a round yellow 
case, had anything to do with making silk rib- 
bons and dresses for ladies. But, indeed, they 
have a great deal to do with it; and when we 
are told that every yard of silk was got by 
"killing a number of poor sleepy old silkworms, 
who, having eaten a great many nice green 
leaves in their time, had thought fit to roll 
themselves up for a quiet nap in their old 
age, I think we shall not deem it such a very 
grand thing after all to wear a new silk scarf, 
or ribbon, or dress. 

Boys sometimes keep silkworms in order to 
get them to spin the pretty yellow cocoons. 
First they get the moth, which lays the tiny 
eggs on a piece of card-board or in a little 
box. After a time, the eggs burst open, and 
the small worms, with many legs, come forth. 
These must be fed with fresh lettuce or other 
leaves, which they will eat, but they must be 
kept in a diy, warm place. 

Day by day they eat more and more, and 
grow larger and larger, till at length they 
seem to know they have had enough, when 
they retire to some quiet corner, and begin to 
surround themselves with the fine yellow 
thread, which has really been made out of the 
leaves they have eaten. At the same time, 

I. B. G 


their bodies becoiae changed in fonn, and by- 
and-by they are quite hidden in what appears 
to be a small yellow ejrg, and is cfkUed a 
cocoon. After havinoc had a rather long sleep, 
our good friend the spinner wake« up, and tiuds 
that she has. lost some of her legs and has got 
wings* Perhaps also she is hungry. At any 
rate, she eats her way out, and stands before 
the world a full-grown moth, ready in Jbuer turn 
to lay eggs whic^ will become silkworms and 
spinners like their parents before them^ 

In countries where they make a trade of 
keeping silkworms, as in France, Italy, Japan, 
China, and India, they do not allow the spin- 
ners to eat theu' way out, as this would break 
up the long fine thread into a great many 
short piecfes. To pt-event this the cocoons are 
put into boiling water, and the makers of 
them are thus killed for the sake of their 
winding sheets. The next thing to do is to 
unwind the thread, which is sold to those who 
spin the silk into yarn, or make it iirto pieces 
for ribbons, dresses, and many other Bficfkil 

All the silk that one worm spins to make 
his cocoon m in one very fine threiul, ao fine 
indeed that teii of them twisted together 
would be only as thick as one hair of your 
head. This thread is about dOO feet long. 
Ask your teacher to tell you how many times 
the length of your school-room that is, 

H. C. 



serv-ice num-bers . flan-iiels 

ftup-plj dain-tv leath-ers 

cloth^mg af-ford Cash-mere 

class-es C<5st-lv car-ri-age 

whrfe-some i^ein^deer de-stroys 

com-mon monk-eys ver-min 

salt-ed . sav-age drown-ing 

God has made all animals to be of some use 
for the service of man. Some supply him 
with food, some ^th dothing, while others 
labour for him. In this country &e cow sup- 
plies us with more food than any other animal 
does; and whUe Uving it gives mUk to drink, 
from which also butter and cheese are made. 
When killed its flesh is eaten by all classes, 
and is called beef. The flesh of sheep is called 
mutton, and is very wholesome food. The 
flesh of the pig is very much used; when fresh 
it is called pork, and when it has been salted 
and dried, it is called bacon. Hares and rabbits, 
whose flesh is very good food, are eaten in large 
numbers. The nesh of deer is eaten by those 
who can get it, but it is costly to purchase^ 

In S((xne countries the people eat the flesh 
of other animals^ such as goats, reindeer, bears, 
and horses. Even the flesh of dogs, rats, and 
monkeys is eoiea by some savage nations. 

A great part of our clothing is made from 
the skins of beasts. The wool of the sheep is 

e 2 


woven into shawls, flannels, blankets^ carpets, 
and cloth," from which all sorts of garments 
are made. The wool of the sheep is there* 
fore of as much value as its flesh. The furs 
of the rabbit, fox, beaver, ermine, and sable 
make mufis, cuffs, jackets, and tippets. The 
upper-leathers for boots and shoes are made 
from goat-skin, seal-skin, ^,nd calf-skin ; the 
soles are made from ox-hide. The best shawls 
are woven from the hair of the camel and the 
Cashmere goat. 

Mankind could not do the work which must 
be done without the help of animals. Being 
much stronger than a man, they do for us the 
hardest waA. The horse helps the farmer to 
plough, sow the seed, and bring home the 
crops. It is useftil, too, for riding, and drawing 
carriages and heavy loads. The camel is of 
great service.for taking heavy loads across the 
sandy deserts. The reindeer is a most us§^ful 
animal in cold countries; it draws its master 
very swiftly, in a sledge, over the snow; its 
flesh is good food, and its skin is made into 
warm clothing. The donkey can draw heavy 
loads, and does not cost much to feed it. The 
dog is very faithful to his master, guards his 
house, hunts for game, and destroys vermin. 
In some countries the dog is used to draw 
loads instead of horses. Some kinds of dogs 
are prized because they have saved so many 
people from drowning, or being lost in the 

boys' first standard. 85 

The bones, horns, hoo&, and &t of animals 
are made use of. Handles of knives, combs, 
and spoons are made from bones. Horns and 
hoofs are cut up and boiled to make glue; 
candles are made from the fat. D. W. 

















The poor and lame old beggar came 

The stormy fields all o'er ; 
And, with a feeble hand, he knocked 

iUpon our cottage door. 
Grev% hk hai^bent was his back, 

'His cheek was white and wan ; 
And Death was drawing to the grave 

The poor old beggar man. 


My mother went and ope'd the door^ 

With pity in her eye ; 
She saw ^ the old man's shivering linibs. 

The keen and frosty sky, 
* Come in, come; in, poor nian/ she said ; 

* Cold,, dre^iry, is the moor^ — 
God ciUres for them, why should not I. 

Assist the wandering poor 3 '. 

. / 


^Twas little that my mother had^ 

For many bairns were we ; 
And, to earn bread for all of oa, 

Much toil and care had she ; 
But her kind Jieart was ever wont 

With pity's warmth to glow, 
And the tear would gather in her eye. 

At the tale of want and woe. 

Kindly she gave all she could give, 

And God aye s^it her more ; 
And kept the pangs of horrid want 

From her poor cottage door. 
She hous€id and fed the frail old man 

Till dawned another day ; 
When, blessing her most earnestly, 

He slowly crept away. 

The poor old man must now be dead, 

Though his grave no mortal knows ; 
Nor cares he how the snow may fall, 

Nor how keen the fierce wind blows. 
But his soul before the throne of Go<), 

Where the angel gar^e^its glow, . 
M^ think of my mother's kindly heart, - 

In, thi& world of want and. wod. 

To those who cannot help themaelvesj 

Like the frail old beggar man, 
I'll always do as mother did, 

Give every help I can : 
And I will gladly, bravely woA, • 

And, grateful, pray foi* more ; 
And God, I know, will ever keep 

Want from my humble door. R. L. H. 

boys' first standard. 87 


man^kind raft-ers plumb-er 

re-quire splen-did glaz-ier 

pro-vide pal-ace win-dow 

shel-ter man-sionfl trades-man 

can-vas cas^tles kitch-ens 

dwell-ings ciab-ins ceidars 

build-ing em-ploy« stud-ies 

A, house is a place built for mankind to 
live in. Wild beasts live in dens, caves, or 
forests ; birds live in trees or hedges ; tame 
animals require stables or sheds to live in. 
But men provide better dwellings for them- 
selves for warmth, shelter, and rest. 

Some meu live in tents made of canvas ; 
these are very handy for those who often 
want to move about, as they require to take 
their dwellings with them^ But houses,- such 
as we live in, are better for those who are 
more settled. Years ago men used to make 
their huta with twigs^ and daub them ' over 
with mud* In later times houses were built 
with wood^ and spread over with clay to keep 
the wind out. The roofs were made with 
straw, like the roofs of some houses in country 
pl^cQfi ^vea 3Qoir« 

At the present time the walls of a house 
:are made with stone or bricks, which are 
joined very firmly by being set in layers of 
mortar^ fiortar is made of lime mix^d with 


sand and water. Besides these, there are 
many things wanted in building. Wood, 
slates, tiles, glass, iron, and lead, are uU used 
as well. The doors, rafters, floors, .window- 
frames, and cupboards, are made xrf wood. 
Deal is the most common kind of wood that is 
used. The roof is covered with tiles or slates. 
Tiles are made of clay, and slates are thin pieces 
split off large blocks of slate dug out of the 
earth. The windows are made of glass, which 
lets in the light, while it keeps out the wind 
and rain. Iron is used to make the bolts, 
locks, screws, and nails. Lead is sometimes 
u^ed for the roofs of large buildings. 

The building of a house employs men of 
many trades. The walls are built by stone- 
masons or bricklayers. The wood- work is 
done by the carpenter and joiner. The slater 
covers the roof. The glazier puts the glass in 
the windows. The painter paints the doors and 
window-frames. The plumber does the lead- 

There are names given to houses to express 
whether they are large or small, A very large 
and splendid house, such as kings and queens. ' 
live in, is called a palace. A mansion is a fine 
large house, but not so grand as a palace. 
Some very large houses are called castles. A 
small house is called a cottage. Huts and 
cabins are the poorest kinds of houses. 

Houses consist of bed-rooms, sitting-rooms, 
kitchens, and cellars. All but huts and 
cabins have most of these rooms in them* 

boys' first standard. 89 

Large houses have others besides, such as 
drawing-rooms, dining-rooms, studies, and 
halls. The floors of a house are sometimes 
called storeys. That part of a house which is 
below the level of the ground is called tiie 
basement. The floor above this is called the 
ground floor. Above the ground floor is the 
first floor, and so on. 


dark-ness flovv-ers thresh-ed 

weath-er gar-dens pheas-ant 

sum-ngier six-teen cov-er-ed 

au-tumn Au-gust child-ren 

joy-ous lil-ies home-less 

na-ture yel-low or-phan 

hap-py stack-ed rain-y 

In every day and night there are twenty- 
four hours, some of light and some of dark- 
ness. The sun shines in the day-time and 
gives us light and heat ; when tlie sun goes 
away it becomes dark, and is called night. 
There is one part of the year when the sun 
shines a long time every day, which causes 
warm weather. When the sun shines only a 
short time every day the weather is cold. This 
change in the weather makes the seasons* 

In England, and many other countries, there 
are four seasons in the year. The first is 
called spring, the second summer, the third 
autumn, and the fourth winter. In summer 
the days are long and the nights are short; 


but in winter the nights are long and the dayd 
are shorts In spring find autumn the days 
and nights are more equal in length. 

On the other side of our world the people 
have hot weather when it is cold here ; so that 
it is summer with then^ while it is winter 
with us, and so with the other seasons. 

Spring is a very joyous time; all nature 
then seems happy, and wears a bright face, as 
if glad that the frost and snow have gone 
away. The trees and bushes be^n to put 
forth tender green buds and leaves, the grass 
grows, and tne birds sing all day long, as they 
build their nests. The eaiiy flowers blossom 
in the woods and gardens, and the lambs sport 
in the fields. The months of spring are 
March, April, and May. 

Summer is the hottest season ; it begins in 
June, when the days are about sixteen hours 
long. In July and August the days get short 
again. The young birds learn to fly, Qie early 
fruits grow ripe, and the com changes to a 
golden colour as it ripens. The roses, lilies, 
and other flowers, hdlp to make diis season 
venr pleasant^ 

In autumn the leaves change from green to 
yellow, brown, or red, and then fall off^ the 
trees. The com is all cut, wid stacked or 
threshed, the late firuit b stored^ and care 
taken to provide for the coming winter. The 
s^x)rtsman shoots the hares, pheasants, and 
other game. 

boys' first staothard. 9Ji 

Winter brings the frost and snow again; 
the lakes and rivers are firoasen over, and the 
trees, fields, and roads are clothed in white. 
The old year closes, and a new year begins. 
Happy are the children that gather round 
the blazing fire, with their parents ! Sad is 
the plight of the homeless orphan at this 
bitter season ! 

In many of the hottest countries of the 
world there are only two seasons in the year. 
They are called the dry season and the rainy 
season. D. W. 


beau-ti-ful gnats dark-'ning 

grow-ing dim-mer whisp-er 

gurgfling verd-ant wimp-ling 

dirap'ling dream^.ly wheel-ing 

flourish hoar-y an-cient^ 

. Tlie sun is setting o'er the hill, 

The day is dying fast, 
Yet, oh, how sweet and beautiful 

E'en to the very last ! 
The swarms of gnats are .sporting 

In the flood of waning light ; 
Their feeble buzz seems saying, ^ 

* 'Tis darkening now,— good night ! * 

The dark firs in the forest 
Are mourning softly now, 
. And the wavy clouds seem lying 
Upon the mountain's brow ; 


They are growing fainter, dimmer, 

And paler to the sight, 
And they seem to whisper sweetly, 

* 'Tis dark'ning now, — ^good night ! ' 


And the stream is gurgling softly 

Adown the verdant lea, 
Wimpling ever, dimpling ever. 

Onward 1;o the sea. 
And shortly it wiU reach it 

In all its rolling might. 
Though yet it murmurs dreamily, 

* 'Tis dark'ning now,— good night ! ' 

And the bat around is wheeling 

By the ruins old and grey, 
Where the wall-flower and the ivy 

Wave and flourish o'er decay ; 
And the hoary tower seems saying 

From its wall of ancient might, 
* Again the day dies o'er me, 

'Tis dark'ning now, — good night!' 

And the ocean in its wailing 

Is rolling on the shore, 
Ever splashing, ever dashing, 

Restless evermore; 
And the sunset rests upon it, 

In patches dim or bright. 
And every wave seems whispering,^ 

* 'Tis dark'ning now,— good night!' 

R* L<« u* 















col-our ' 

. re-quires 
Chi-na blos-soms con-vey 

So many people in England drink tea every 
day that we may reckon tea amongst the daily 
wants of this nation, and all should know 
something about it. Have you ever thought 
how we get such a pleasant drink ? Of course 
you know that it is made by pouring boiling 
water on something that is called tea, which 
we buy at the grocer's shop. But do you 
know where it came from before the grocer had 
it? I will try to tell you something about it. 

Tea is the dried leaves of a bushy shrub, 
which is called the tea plant, and grows iii 
countries a very long way off. It is grown 
chiefly in China, Japan, and Assam. The 
leaves are not fit to gather till the plants 
they grow on are three years old; in seven 
years the shrubs attain their full size ; they are 
then about the height of a man. After this 
they are cut down, in order that they may send 
put more branches and grow more leaves. 

Besides* the leaves, tea plants bear flowers 
and seeds, which are of no use for tea. 


The flowers are like the blossoms of the dog- 
rose^ which most children have seen in the 
hedges. The seeds are used for growing new 
plants. ' In China there are whole fields filled 
with tea plants, which grow best in low 
places by the side of rivers, or on the slopes 
of hills. The leaves are narrow and pointed, 
and jagged round the edge like a rose-leaf; 
they are smooth and glossy, and of a dark 
green colour. The tea plant is called an ever- 
green, because it remains green all the year. 

To prepare the leaves requires great care. 
Same are plucked in the spring and others in the 
sunM!ner. The spring leaves make bettet tea 
than those pulled in the simimer. A few of 
the youngest leaves are taken oiF the bushes 
very early in the spring, and these make the 
best tea of all. The people who gather them 
pick them off one by one, that rfiey may not 
bruise them ; but tfiough you may think this 
is very slow work, each person can gather 
about ten or twelve pounds a day. 

Before the leaves are fit for use they must 
be dried; this is done by keeping them on 
iron or copper plates over a fire, until they 
shrivel up. They are then taken off the 
plates, and rolled up in the bands. Tea is ia 
this state when we buy it. 

A very great number of pounds of tea ste 
brought to this country every year from Gtiisft, 
and many krge ships convey it across tlie sea. 

boys' pibst standard, 95 









. A-ra-bi-d 







. e^Bough 








Coffee is the fruit of a very handsome tree. 
When dried and ground^ it is used with boil- 
ing water to make a nice drink, which is also 
called coffee. In this country people mostly 
drink it mixed with sugar ana milk or cream; 
but in some countries it is used without either. 

The coffee tree is grown chiefly in Arabia, 
the East Indies and ^^ West Indies, which are 
all hot countries. The coffee tree is a native 
of Arabia, and the best coffee still comes from 
that country; it is called Moclm coffee, be- 
cause it grows near the town of Mocha, and 
from thence is sent all over the world* Coffee 
treas are sometimes grown in cold countries, 
but there they must be kept in hot-houses. 
They repay ail the trouble and expenfee of 
rearing them^ for they are always a pretty 
sight, being covered with bright green leaves 
all the year round. They are of great beauty 
whea in flower, o)r when the berries are ripe. 
The blossums are quite white, and possess a 
sweet scent. The berries are first green and 
change to a dark red as they become ripe. 



To raise new coffee trees, ripe seeds must 
be picked, and put into the ground at once; 
for, if not fresh from the tree, they will not 
grow. When the young plants are forward 
enough to be moved, they are planted in holes 
about eight feet apart, and often sprinkled 
with a little water. Thfey are found to 
flourish best on hills and the slopes of moun- 
tains, where the roots are not kept too wet. 
In three years the trees begin to bear fruit, 
but do not come into foil profit till they are 
five years old. If not cut down they will grow 
to the height of sixteen or eighteen feet, and 
when about thirty years old cease to bear fruit. 

No part of the tree is used except the fruit, 
which looks like cherries, and grows in clusters. 
When quite ripe it is shaken off the trees on 
a clean cloth spread upon the ground. It is 
then put into a mill, which breaks each berry 
into two parts; these are called coffee-beans; 
the mill also strips the skin from the berries. 
The coffee-beans, after being soaked in water a 
whole night, are roasted. This is done by means 
of an iron box pierced with holes, in which 
the beans are placed over a fierce fire. Then 
the box is made to turn round very quickly till 
the beans are scorched to a dark-brown colour. 
When the coffee-beans have grown cold again 
they are fit for use, but they should not be 
ground till they are wanted for making the 

D- W. 

boys' first standard. 97 























The sweet substance called sugar, which we 
use in the form of hard lumps or a soft 
powder, is made from the juice of certain 
plants. Those which yield the most are the 
sugar-cane, the beet-root, and the maple tree. 
Nearly all the sugar we us,e in this country 
is made from the sugar-cane, and comes to us 
from the East and West Indies. 

The sugar-cane grows with joints all the 
way up the stem, and looks as if made of short 
pieces. It reaches the height of seven feet, or 
as much as twelve feet in the richest soils. 
At the top grows a bunch of leaves, and the 
ishoots fix)m which new canes are raised. 

Large fields of sugar-cane are grown in 
this way: — Holes are dug all over the ground 
about five or six inches deep. The shoots 
are put in the bottom of these holes, and a 
little earth is thrown over them. In ten or 
twelve days they begin to grow, and more 
mould is put round them as they increase in 
size. When the canes are eighteen months 

I. B. H 


their faults, were careful about this, and one 
of them wrote this fable on purpose to teach 
a lesson of kindness to others — 

' Some boys were one day throwing stones 
into a large pond, in which were a number of 
frogs, at which they aimed ; at last one of the 
fpogs, putting his head above the water, cried 
out, " Dear children, why learn to be cruel so 
young ? remember that what is fun to you i& 
death to us." ' 

Again, if we are kind and thoughtftd for 
dumb creatures, we shall find our pleasure 
in them increase, and begin to notice many 
of their habits and instincts which we might 
never otherwise have learned ; for it is won- 
derful to observe how curious many of their 
ways are, and how strongly they suggest 
to us the greatness of that power and skill 
which made them what they are. We do not 
as yet know how far what we call their instinct 
is helped and guided by reason ; but we do 
know that they are very grateful for kindness, 
and try to prove it by any means witWn their 
power. Even a fierce lion once made friends 
with a poor slave named Androcles, who had 
run away from his master, because the slave had 
taken a thorn out of the lion's foot, and thus 
eased him of the pain it was causing him. 
After some time the slave was taken again 
and thrown into a lion's den, that he might 
be torn to pieces. But the lion, fierce as he 
was to everyone else, came and licked the 

boys' first standard. 101 

poor man's hand and fondled him, instead of 
tearing him to pieces. Then the poor slave 
found it was his old friend of the desert, who 
had been caught some time before. So his 
master spared his life and set him free. 

£. B. H. 


cot-tage thatch-ed ev'ry-thing 

won-drous pa-tient col-li-er 

out-side an-gels hur-ry-ing 

knelt beck-on up-litt-ed 

howl-ing of-fer'd suf-fer-er 

The cottage was a thatch'd one, 

The outside old and mean. 
Yet everything within that cot 

Was wondrous neat and clean. 

The niffht was dark and stormy, 
• The wind was howling wild; 
A patient mother knelt beside 
The death-bed of her child. 

A little worn-out creature- 

V 1 

His once bright eyes grown dim; 
It was a collier's only child : 
They caU'd him Little Jim. 

And oh ! to see the briny tears 
Fast hurrying down her cheek, 

As she offer'd up a prayei? in thought — 
She was afraid to speak, 


Lest she might waken one she lov'd 

Far better than her life, 
For there was all a mother's love 

In that poor collier's wife. 

With hands uplifted, see, she kneels 

Beside the sufferer's bed ; 
And prays that He will spare her boy, 

And take herself instead ! 

She gets her answer from the child ; 
Soft fell these words from him — 

* Mother, the angels do so smile. 

And beckon Little Jim ! 

* I have no pain, dear mother, now. 

But oh ! I am so dry; 
Just moisten poor Jim's lips again, 
And, mother, don't you cry.' 

With gentle trembling haste she held 

The tea-cup to his lips ; 
He smiled, to thank her, as he took 

Three little tiny sips. 

* Tell father, when he comes from work, 

I said good*night to him ; 
And, mother, now I'll go to sleep '— 
Alas ! poor Little Jim. 

She saw that he was dying— 
Thei child she lov'd so dear, 

,Had utter'd the last words that she 
Might ever hope to hear. ' 

boys' first standard. 103 

The cottage door was open'd, 
The colUer^s step was heard ; 

The mother and the father met. 
Yet neither spake a word I 

He knew that all was over— 
He knew his child was dead; 

He took the candle in his hand, 
And walk'd towards the bed. 

His quiv'ring lips gave token 

Of grief he'd fain conceal ; 
And see ! his wife has join'd him, 

The stricken couple kneel ! 

With hearts bowed down with sadness, 

They humbly ask of Him, 
In heaven, once more, to meet again, 

Their own poor Little Jim. 

Edward Farmer. 


mon-ey hand-some mis-chief 

har-bour dis-tance au-tumn 

ca-nal scarce-ly wool-len 

ex-pand con-tract ket-tle 

act-ive sin-gle e-ven-ing 

Jack Frost is a very active fellow, for in a 
single evening he will skip about all over the 
country, and write his name on everything he 
can get at. He does mischief, too, for I have 
known him to break handsome water-jugs that 
cost a lot of money, and to burst the water- 


pipes in the house, so that when a thaw came 
the place was flooded. If he carries on his 
pranks for many nights and days, he locks up 
the ships and barges in the rivers, canals, and 
harbours. And there's no stopping him, once 
he begins, unless you bring indoors the things 
you don't want him to touch, and keep the 
place warm with good* fires. But it is not 
very easy to bring a river or a pond indoors, 
and so he has his own way with them. He 
does not like the fire himself, but when he is 
about the fire looks very cheerful, and crackles 
and blazes away as much as to say, ' Who cares 
for you ? I don't, so pray keep your distance. 
I can't allow any of your tricks near me.' He 
is a pleasant sort of fellow, on the whole, to 
those who are ready for him, who are healthy 
and strong, have good warm clothes, plenty 
of food, and snug houses. But the sick, and 
the poor, and the aged cannot well endure him. 

Let us try to know a little more about Mr. 
Jack. I need scarcely tell you that he comes 
about in the nights and early mornings of 
Spring and Autumn, but in Winter he is 
mostly about all day long. 

' Take this into your hand, and tell me what 
it is.' 

* It is an iron rod, sir.' 
' Is it hot or cold ? ' 

^ Cold, sir.' 

* Now take this into your hand, and teU me 
what it is.' 

boys' fikst standard. 105 

* It is a piece of iron plate or sheet-iron, 

' Quite right. Do you notice anything 
about it ? ' 

' It has a hole in it, sir.' 
' What shape is the hole ? ' 
' Hound, sir.' 

* See if you can put the iron rod through it.' 

* Yes, sir, it just fits it.' 

' Very well, then ; the iron rod is cold, and 
it just fits the hole in the piece of sheet-iron. 
Notice that fact. 

' Now put one end of the iron rod into the 
fire, and tell me when you think it is quite 

' I think it's red hot now, sir.' 

' Very well. Now take the piece of iron 
plate in your left hand, and the iron rod in 
your right. You had better take this woollen 
cloth to hold it with, or else you may burn 
yourself. Are you ready ? ' 

' Quite ready, sir.' 

' Now put the iron rod through the hole in 
the plate as you did before.' 

' It won't go through, sir.' 


' It's too big now.' 

* Just so ; the heat has made it larger. Now 
can you tell me a word which means to make 

' Expand means to make larger, sir.' 

* Quite right. Then you have found out 


that heat expands the iron, and you would find 
that, as a rule, heat expands things. 

* When you fill a kettle with water, and put 
it on the fire, the water pours out of the 
spout, and makes a great fuss long before the 
water boils.' 

' Yes, it did so this morning, sir, and made 
such a mess on the clean hearth ! ' 

* Well. You can account for it bow? ' 

* Yes. It is because the heat expands the 
water, so that the kettle is not big enough to 
hold it, and it therefore flows out of the 

' Is the bar of iron cold yet ? ' 
' no ; it is quite hot still.' 

* Take it out and dip it into a pail of cold 

' It's quite cold now, sir.' 
' Put it through the hole in the plate just as 
you did at first.' 

' It goes through quite nicely now.' 

* Then it has got smaller again ? ' 

' Yes, sir, rather smaller than it was at first, 
I think.' 

' What has made it smaller? ' 

' The cold, I suppose.' 

' You are right, the cold has made it smaller. 
Now, can you tell me a word which means to 
make smaller?' 

' Yes, sir, contract is to make smaller.' 

' Quite right. Now you have learnt in such 
a way that you will not easily forget it. that 

boys' rillST STANDARD. 107 

heat expands, and cold contracts things. We 
will now go on with our lesson on frost.' 

£• T. S. 

JACK FROST (continued). 

bot-tle freez-es plough-ed 

sol-id par-don va-pour 

pei*-haps in-trude care-fdl-ly 

melt-ed can-non cov-er-ed 

se*vere piec-es cas-tle 

If you fill a bottle with water, cork it up 
tightly, and put it out of doors on a frosty 
night, you will most likely find the bottle 
broken in the morning, because the cold 
expands the water when it turns into ice, so 
that persons \vho have thought a great deal 
abdut the matter have found that to a certain 
point cold contracts water, but when it freezes 
it it expands it. The ice, then, takes up more 
room tnan the same weight of water, and . this 
is the reason tvhy ice floats. If the ice were 
not lighter than the water, it would sink to 
the bottom of the rivers and ponds, and in the 
course of a long winter they would become 
solid masses of ice ; so that it would take a very 
long time for the sun to melt them when the 
days became warmer. Perhaps it would never 
all become melted in some parts of the country, 
and this would cause a great deal of trouble. 
But as it is^ the ice floats on the top of the 
water^ and can therefore be often broken in 


winter, so that in the case of rivers, nnless the 
cold is very severe, it goes away to the sea, 
leaving the stream free for boats, barges, or 
ships. And when the warm weather comes it 
is melted much sooner than it could be if it 
sank to the bottom. 

When Jack Frost gets into the house he often 
causes much mischief, as I have said before ; 
but many persons think the thaw does it. 
The fact is. Jack bursts the pipes when he 
freezes the water, but the ice does not come 
through the cracks he makes because it is 
solid. When the thaw comes, however, the ice 
is turned to water again, soon finds out the 
cracks, and so makes its way where it is not 
wanted without so much as saying,' I beg your 
pardon; I hope I don't intrude.' 

The force with which water expands when 
it freezes is so great, that even large iron can- 
nons, filled with water, and plugged up at the 
mouth and touch-hole, have been burst in 
pieces by Mr. Frost when he has been very 

The farmer makes great use of Mr. Jack, for 
after he has got in his crops, he has his stiff 
land ploughed or dug ; and if you walk through 
his fields you will see great clods of earth 
Ijring all over them, and looking very awkward 
indeed. But if you go the same way after Mr. 
Jack Frost has been at work, you will see all 
these great clods broken up into very fine 
BLOuld. The fact is, each clod had a good deal 

boys' fikst standard. ' 10& 

of water in it. This water became frozen, and 
so, in trying to expand, it broke up the clod 
into the fine mould that you see. The frost 
also killed the worms and grubs that were 
there, so that it is of great use to the farmer. 

When the vapour that makes up the clouds 
freezes, it forms very pretty crystals, which 
fall to the earth in great numbers, and make 
what we call snow. If you catch one of these 
crystals on the dark sleeve of your coat or 
dress, and look at it carefully, you will see 
that it is very pretty, and you wUl most 
likely notice, i£ you catch a dozen of them, 
that there will not be two alike. The snow is 
very useful in winter, for it covers the ground, 
and keeps many plants safe which would 
otherwise be^ killed by the frost. But some- 
times the* wind drives the snow into great heaps 
by the sides of the hills, or fills up the valleys. 
These are called snow-drifts, and in Scotland, 
and even the north of England, hundreds of 
sheep are lost in them during a severe 
winter, though sometimes they live for many 
days covered up with the snow, if there are a 
few holes in the white roof to let in the air. 

In some cold countries people make houses 
of snow. They tread it hard and firm, and 
then cut it out into the shape of bricks, with 
which they build little houses or huts, in which 
they live snugly enough, wrapped up in the 
skins of bears and other beasts which they hunt. 

When I was a boy we made a fine large 


castle of snow in our playground, and stuck 
a flag on the top of it. At night-time we 
lighted it up with candles, which we put in the 
windows, which we had fitted with squares of 
glass. It looked very jolly outside, I can 
tell you, and was by no means bad inside, 
for we made seats in it of banks of snow- 
covered with boards. But one morning, when 
we got up and looked out of window, we saw 
that the flag had tumbled down, the roof had 
fallen in, the glass had slipped out of the 
windows, and our fine castle looked like a very 
dirty, wretched ruin. Mr. Thaw bad been at 
work during the night, and had done all this 
mischief. It was, however, five or six weeks 
before all the snow was gone, for when it is 
piled up to a great height and beaten hard, so 
that the warm air cannot get into it, it lasts a 
long time. 

Snowballing is a first-rate game for boys. 
They should have sound boots, and ^ease' 
them well ; if they do not they mav get bad 
colds, which are very hard things to get rid of. 
It is very unfair to put stones or pieces of 
ice in snow-balls, because they may do much 
mischief. I have known a boy killed with a 
snow-ball made in this way. Boys should play 
the game in an open field, or in their play* 
ground, if their teachers do not object, \mt not 
in the open street. And they should never 
throw snow -balls at strangers as they pass, for 
they may do a great de^l of harm, and even 

boys' first standard. Ill 

cause death. And no kind-hearted boys, such 
as I hope you all are, would wish to do such a 
thing. Form two sides as you would at 
cricket, and pelt one another to your hearts' 
content. If you have your jackets turned up 
round your necks, and sound shoes on, the 
game will keep you warm, and do you good. 
It is a good game for girls, too, if their 
teachers and parents do not forbid them to 
play at it. E. T. S. 

JACK FROST {concluded). 











When Mr. Frost gets hold of the water of 
the clouds after it has formed into drops, he 
changes them into hard lumps of ice called 
hail-stones. These fall very often in the sum- 
mer, because at that season of the year, though 
it may be warm on the surface of the earth it 
is very cold high up in the air. Hail-jstones 
are mostly the size of small pe^.s, but some-' 
times they are as large as walnuts and then' 
they do great damage to fruit-trees, and^ 
break the glass in windows and green-houses/ 
In the winter he plays tricks with the mist 
and dew, so that when you look out of the 


window in the morning the grass, the hedges, 
and the roofs of the houses often look as 
though they had been sprinkled with flour. 
This is called hoar-frost, and it often kills 
tender trees and plants that have not been 
taken care of, or put out of his reach. 

It is always very cold high up in the air, 
and there are some mountains whose tops are 
so high above the land around them that the 
snow there never goes quite away, so that they 
are always covered with it. At times, great 
masses of this snow slide down the sides of 
the mountains with fearful force, knocking 
down trees, houses, and churches that they 
meet in their way, and perhaps killing the 
people who may be in them, till they come to 
the valleys at the bottom and bury the people 
alive in meir houses. 

From the under part of the snow on the 
tops of these mountains water flows, becoming 
as it goes along a great frozen stream, sliding 
down into the valley. As it comes nearer the 
warmer regions of the air it melts and flows 
away in mighty torrents to fill the rivers 
which run into, the sea. Sometimes there are 
great cracks in these rivers of ice, and persons 
who climb the mountains have often fallen 
into them and been killed. But they glide so 
slowly down that the bodies of persons thus 
lost do not appear at the base of the mountain 
till a long time after. 

In what are called the polar regions of the 

boys' first standard. 118 

earth the sea is blocked up with ice all the 
year round, for there the summer is so short 
that there is only time for a small portion to 
be melted before winter comes on again. Th^ 
ice there is many feet in thickness, and whep 
large masses get heaped together they form 
what are called icebergs. These float about the 
sea, being carried by winds and currents, and 
appear Uke moving moimtains of ice. When 
the sun shines on them they look very grand 
indeed, but woe to the ship that does not get 
out of their way, for they are so large and 
heavy, and move so swiftly, that they have 
been known to sink the strongest ships and 
destroy all on board. These icebergs do not 
Gome very near our shores, but are sometimes 
seen within a few miles of the coast in the 
extreme north of Scotland. 

The harbours in Russia and other countries 
in the north of Europe are often blocked up 
with ice during the winter, so that ships can 
neither come out from, nor enter them, but 
the sea is always open around the coasts of 
England, Scotland, and Ireland. 

The rivers become frozen over when thes 
winter is very severe. Some years ago the 
river Thames was frozen over in this way ; 
and the ice was so thick and strong that a fair 
was held on it and an ox roasted whole. 

Skating is very good fun and very healthy, 
out you must take care not to venture where 
*he ice is weak, for hundreds of persons have 

I.B. I 


been drowned through its giving way. In 
Holland and other countries where the canals 
run along the middle of the streets, persons 
skate from place to place instead of walking, 
and they can go very many miles a day in this 

Sliding is good in its way for those who 
cannot skate or have no skates to put on ; but 
boys are sometimes thoughtless enough to 
make slides in public streets and roads. They 
should never do this, as persons are apt to fall 
if they tread on them in the dark,, and break 
their limbs. Almost every winter we hear of 
poor old people falling on them and meeting 
with a cruel death, because of the selfish and 
wicked conduct of some thoughtless boy. 

In Russia Jack Frost is so severe in winter 
time that he very often freezes persons' noses 
as they walk along the streets. How would 
you lite, as you are going along and 8teru»g 
about you at all the new and strange sights 
you see, to have a man run up to you all at 
once, crying, ' your nose, sir ! ' and begin to 
rub that useful member with a handful of 
snow? Yet that sort of thing often occurs, 
and I ain told it's the only way to save your 
nose, once it gets frost-bitten. So that what 
at first sight appears an insult is really a 
very great kindness. Those who travel in 
the arctic regions have to be very careful, 
for a frost bite often results in the loss of an 
eye, an army' ca^ a leg. E. T. S. 



8otmd-ed ex-cuse e-nough 

iQ-stance pro-nounce pur-pose 

er-ror wrong-ly Ar-thur 

hap-py aw-fm Har-ry 

awk-waxd blun-ders hor-riS 

Qp all ihue twenty-six letters, I think poor H 
is the most badly treated, for many persons 
take no notice of it when they should do so, 
and others use it when they should iu)t. We 
can excuse those who have never been taught 
better when they make suck mistakes, but 
those who have been to school and learnt how 
to read ought never to ill-use this letter H. 

. There are some words that begin with H in 
which it must never be sounded, and as they 
are very few in number you must learn them so 
as never to forget them. The chief of these are 
heir^ hour J honour^ honest Other words made 
up from these have also silent H, as heiress^ 
Jieirloam, hourly^ half-hour^ honoured^ honesty. 

In these words, then, the H must not be 
sounded ; and, of course, when a word does 
not begin with H, you must not pronounce it 
as though it did. For instance, you must not 
say Aawful instead of awful, ^Tann instead of 
Ann^ £r<»mly instead of Emily, jQTarthur instead 
of Arthiur. 

It is a common error to leave out the H 
where it should be sounded. This is quite 


as bad as putting it in wHere it is not wanted; 
for sometimes the word without H means one 
thing, but with H it means another. So be 
carefiil, my little friends, and, whether reading 
or speaking, say Aorse, not 'orse ; Aappy, not 
'appy; -ffarry, not 'Any; Aead, not 'ead; 
Aouse, not 'ouse; Aorrid, not 'orrid, (Tell 
your teacher the meanings of these words ; — 
and, hand; ash, hash; air, hair; ail^ hail; eat, 
heat; edge, hedge.) 

Awkward blunders may arise if you do not 
attend to poor H. For instance, I once heard 
a mother say to her daughter, ' 'eat the flat- 
iron, Jane.' But if Jane could have done 
what her mother bade her, she would not 
hive eaten many more dinners. Of course, 
the good woman meant that Jane was to heat 
it by putting it to the fire. 

Sometimes H occurs as the second letter of 
a word, and then it must be sounded. So 
you must say whichj not wich ; wherBj not 
were ; when^ not wen ; wkeA^ not wat ; whoee^ 
not 'oose ; whrp^ not wip ; whesA^ not weat ; 
why^ not wy. 

It will be a useful lesson if you write out 
on one side of your slate all the words you 
can think of which begin with H, and on 
the other all those which begin with a, e, i, o, 
or u, which are called vowels, and then read 
each list aloud to your teacher. E. T. S. 

Spottiswoode ^- Co., Jointers, London and WeUiMHuUr^